


An Irrevocable Becoming

by HotMolasses



Series: An Irrevocable Becoming [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Will Graham, Graphical descriptions of murder, Hannibal and Will are shamelessly in love, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder as a honeymoon, Passionate Hannigram, Rough Sex, Sex during murder, Violence, Will loves killing, also gentle sex, and Will uses murder to tell the world, emphasis on murder, lots of kinds of sex, murder as foreplay, murder spree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotMolasses/pseuds/HotMolasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will tightened, rather than loosened, his grip on her neck.  Moved his right hand down from where it clasped his wrist to her heart, to feel it beating first impossibly hard, and then slower, weaker, as it ran out of oxygen.  His eyes lifted and met Hannibal’s gaze boring into him, his face unreadable to anyone else, but Will could see the pride in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, her heart slowed to nothing.  The last beats of it were faint, drowned out by Will’s own pulse, and he let her body drop, lifeless, to the living room floor.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal opened his mouth, but Will already knew the question.</p><p> </p><p>“Good.  It feels good.” he said.</p><p> </p><p>He bent to the floor to pick up the phone and placed it impassively back onto its cradle on the wall.  He walked over to Hannibal and knelt beside him, their eyes locking again.</p><p> </p><p>“A different man has risen from the water.” Hannibal said.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” was Will’s reply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            The water swirled cold around them, swallowing them into its blackness. So much of Will’s body was broken in so many places that he couldn’t discern any one injury from another; instead they all blended together into one constant song of pain throbbing in the forefront of his consciousness.

            Then it was in the background, the memories from earlier playing before Will’s mind. He’d nearly died enough times to know how fast one’s mind rolled through these memories; hours of life crammed into seconds.

            “Going my way?” Hannibal had asked, after he opened the passenger door of the police car and politely shoved the dying cop out of the passenger seat, clearing it for Will to sit in.

            As he did with every other opportunity Hannibal had given him to back out—and there had been many—Will did not take it. Instead, he got in, declaring once again that yes, he was going Hannibal’s way.

            And then,

            “Do you intend to watch him kill me?”

            “I intend to watch him change you.” Even then, so close to his becoming, Will was still believing his own lies. He couldn’t watch Mason Verger kill Hannibal; instead convincing Mason to let Will kill him, and even then he chose to free Hannibal when he could have let him die. What then, made him think he’d be able to watch the Dragon, or anyone else besides himself, kill Hannibal? Hannibal was _his_ to kill.

            Of course, all of those words were too many for the short instant he had available to him when the Dragon had Hannibal by the cliff’s edge. When the moment came to watch Hannibal be killed by another, Will’s mind had time for one word. _Mine_.

            And Will let it all go. When he released the death-grip he’d had clenched around morality, the energy he’d been expending up on that his entire life suddenly released to him, he was able to surge forward and plunge the blade into Dolarhyde with ease.

            Never once did his eyes leave Hannibal. The true monster released, not hidden behind human skin, leaping onto his back to tear out his throat with his teeth. Will’s blade sinking into the flesh it had always wanted to cut; not Hannibal’s, but in defense of him. Beauty wasn’t the word, but it was the best he had.

            He’d intended it to be his last at the time, but it was surprising how much one could change on their way down from the top of a cliff to the bottom.

            His lungs burned. His instinct, primal and deep, forced his limbs to push against the water, pulling him towards the surface, and beside him he felt Hannibal, arm tight around Will’s waist, pulling him up, up.

            They broke the surface, both gasping for breath, before they sank back down. They weren’t going to make it; that was Will’s design.

            Then Hannibal was pulling him, Will’s own feet kicking in the water, defying his own plans as he instinctually kicked off his shoes. As usual, his body did the opposite of his intention, until they reached a boulder, both clinging to it for life, gasping for breath.

            Hannibal’s eyes were black in the night, but Will could still feel them burning into him. Asking him.

            “Together, or not at all.” he managed. Hannibal nodded once, and turned his gaze to the cliff-face. He nodded once in the direction behind him, then pushed off the rock. Will swam behind after him; it had appeared a short distance to the cliff-face, only six feet away, but he was in agony and it was an eternity before Hannibal’s firm hand clasped his shoulder and dragged him to the rocks, where his fingers clung against the slippery wetness, his fingers getting cut on barnacles.

            They swam a foot or two, their fingers clasping the wall to keep their heads above water, stopping when a wave crashed over them, waiting for it to abate, then swimming another few feet, following the wall of rock to their right, using it as both a guide and a lifeline.

            The journey was an eternity. All Will could see was blackness, all around him, save for the moonlight glinting off Hannibal’s hands and arms as he made his way along the cliff side, all he could hear were the waves, all he could feel was cold and pain.

            He followed Hannibal blindly in the dark, his life depending upon him to know the way, and later would laugh at himself at how that’s all he’d ever done. Whenever he rejected Hannibal, it landed him in situations like this: to the very brink of death. On the few times he’d allowed himself to follow Hannibal, it led him to feelings so close to euphoria he couldn’t even look at them.

            Until tonight.

            He’d looked. It was brilliant. Before now, he’d been a fool.

            He heard a change in the way the waves crashed against the rocks. They finally rounded a large outcropping, and beyond it Will could see the moon glinting off the wet pebbles of a beach. The cliff they clung to wrapped around again, remaining steep and tall as it receded along the shore of the mouth of a river. Following that back would take an eternity, when the beach seemed only twenty yards away if they swam for it.

            Hannibal pushed off the rock wall towards the beach, and Will followed him. He wasn’t nearly as strong a swimmer as Hannibal was, not even with a bullet hole in his gut. Will struggled to keep up with him, forcing his stabbed shoulder to move against all its protests to push against the water. He felt his body weakening as he lost unknown amounts of blood to the sea. His heart screamed in his chest, his lungs burned.

            And then his bare foot hit against a rock on the bottom. It probably hurt, but all he felt was hope. He was that close. Hannibal was taller than he was and found his footing first. The moment he had it, his hand clasped firmly around Will’s good arm, pulling him towards the shore. Once he was able to get his own footing he forced his legs to stand, the weight of his body doubling as he rose up out of the water. He didn’t have the strength, then, and collapsed onto his hands and knees.

            Will crawled and Hannibal stumbled out of the water. Will collapsed onto his stomach, waves still crashing over the bottom half of his body, gasping for breath. He felt Hannibal’s powerful hands under his arms, lifting him up.

            “We can’t stop here, or we’ll die.” he said. Will urged his feet under himself, stumbling forward, up, up the slope of the beach, until they came upon grass. He saw a light ahead of them. It was out of focus, too far for him to see clearly without his glasses. Hannibal dragged him forward, but halfway to the light, he felt Hannibal weaken beside him, his knees shaking. He looked down at saw the bloodstain dripping down his front from the bullet wound.

            Gritting his teeth against pain and exhaustion, Will grabbed Hannibal’s arm and slung it over his shoulders. He grunted from the effort as Hannibal put more weight on him than he’d probably intended to, as the light crept slowly closer, until Will could make the outline of a cottage window.

            Gravel crunched under their feet as they stumbled their way up a path to the door. Hannibal pounded on it with his fist, and it flew open, the shocked face of an elderly woman appearing in front of them.

            “Please, Mrs. Williamson. We fell from the cliff.”  
            “Of course, Hannibal, come in, come in!” she said, stepping aside to usher them in. Will saw a couch to their right and dragged Hannibal to it with the last ounces of strength he had. He lay Hannibal down on his back, who grabbed his wrist firmly.

            “Mrs. Williamson, is your husband home?” Hannibal asked. Will turned to see her with a phone in her hand, poised to dial 911. She looked up from her task to answer Hannibal’s question, and Hannibal grabbed Will’s wrist powerfully, with intent. Will looked down into Hannibal’s fierce eyes and knew what he was asking.

            And for the first time in Will’s life, he understood that there was no other way. Or perhaps there was; but he didn’t _want_ there to be.

            “Um, no, he’s out on the yacht.” she said, and Will rose to his feet and took the two steps towards her, looming over her, wet and bloody. But it must have been what was in his eyes that made her take a step back, then two, until her back was to the wall.

            “I’m sorry, but we can’t have you calling anyone.” he said. With a quickness that surprised himself, he yanked her by the shoulders and spun her frail body until her back was to him. He wrapped his left arm tightly around her throat, squeezing while she struggled, her nails clawing at his arm. He hardly felt it, but a hot, intense pleasure boiled up from inside him as he felt her weakening beneath his grasp. Power, such as he shouldn’t have and had barely begun to know. He kept his face close to hers, listening to her rasping breaths, squeezing harder until there were none. Her mouth opened and closed silently, her body struggling more and more weakly. She went limp in his arms, but even then, he could feel her heart beating, racing, her small body doing all it could to try to save itself.

            He tightened, rather than loosened, his grip on her neck. Moved his right hand down from where it clasped his wrist to her heart, to feel it beating first impossibly hard, and then slower, weaker, as it ran out of oxygen. His eyes lifted and met Hannibal’s gaze boring into him, his face unreadable to anyone else, but Will could see the pride in his eyes.

            Finally, her heart slowed to nothing. The last beats of it were faint, drowned out by Will’s own pulse, and he let her body drop, lifeless, to the living room floor.

            Hannibal opened his mouth, but Will already knew the question.

            “Good. It feels good.” he said.

            He bent to the floor to pick up the phone and placed it impassively back onto its cradle on the wall. He walked over to Hannibal and knelt beside him, their eyes locking again.

            “A different man has risen from the water.” Hannibal said.

            “Yes.” was Will’s reply. Their gazes held each other for a good ten seconds, unblinking, until Hannibal gave a weak gasp. Will’s eyes darted down to his abdomen.

            “Find a sewing kit.” Hannibal said. “Rubbing alcohol from the bathroom, bring me whatever medications you can find, gauze if they have it, clean towels if they don’t.”

            Will nodded once, rose to his feet, and went about tossing the belongings of the elderly couple who had the unfortunate luck to be Hannibal’s neighbors.

            Once he found everything he was looking for he cut open Hannibal’s shirt, revealing the wound on his stomach.

            Despite having spent over thirty minutes in the water, the bleeding had slowed. Blood clotted around the edges of the bullet hole, leaking out only slowly from the center, now. With scissors he’d found he cut a towel into strips, folding them over the wound and pressing down on it.

            “Back, get the back.” Hannibal said, his breaths becoming more ragged and labored. Will slid his arms under him and helped him roll to the side, where he saw the exit wound just above his hip. He also saw the Verger brand, having not known it was there, but said nothing. Now was not the time for idle conversation.

            He tore more towel strips and folded them against the wound, pressing hard against it with his hand.

            “Cellophane wrap, from the kitchen.” Hannibal said, reaching his own hand behind him to hold the makeshift bandages in place. Will hurried, slamming drawers and cabinets open until he found it, and returned. He started to wrap Hannibal’s mid-section with it, pressing tightly around the bandages, asking if he had the right pressure, if he could breathe, if it was tight enough.

            Once that was done Hannibal collapsed onto his back, his face pale with exhaustion and blood loss. He panted heavily for a few moments, gathered his strength, and gestured at the bottles of pills Will had brought.

            “Read them to me.”

            Will nodded, picking up one bottle after another, reading Hannibal the labels. For the second time he missed his glasses, and resigned himself to the fact that he would probably be without them for a long time.

            Hannibal gave a simple “yes” or “no” in response to the bottles, until Will had a pile of painkillers and antibiotics. Hannibal directed him to take certain ones and took others himself, swallowing them dry. He then closed his eyes tightly, gathered his strength and forced himself to sit up.

            “Hannibal, you should rest…”

            “We don’t have that luxury at the present moment.” he stated flatly. He reached out his arm towards the sewing kit and gestured with his fingers for Will to give it to him. Will placed it in his hands.

            “Sit.” he said, commanding with his eyes for Will to sit directly across from him, on the coffee table. Their knees interlocked, the position becoming very intimate when Hannibal scooted closer to sit on the edge of the couch.

            “Remove your shirt.”

            Will obeyed, his right hand shaking as he fought against the pain in his shoulder. Hannibal took the bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it over Will’s shoulder, making him hiss from the burning sting. His eyes watered and his fingers clenched the edge of the coffee table.

            Hannibal threaded the needle and then doused that in the rubbing alcohol as well.

            “Hold still.”

            Will’s knuckles grew white as the needle pierced his skin. His breathing became labored and heavy, his body trembling from all that was happening to it.

            “Breathe, Will.”

            He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He forced himself then to concentrate on inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, his eyes glassy as he stared at the pattern on the couch behind Hannibal.

            The surgeon’s sure fingers worked deftly and quickly, stitching Will’s stab wound closed in mere minutes. Blood now covered Hannibal’s hands again; Will’s blood, and even in the depth of pain and delirium he was in, he couldn’t help himself from staring at them.

            Hannibal cut the thread and pulled more from the spool, repeating his routine. His hand clasped Will’s chin firmly, tilting his head to give him the best access to his right cheek.

            “This is going to hurt.” he said. “But you cannot scream.”

            Will grit his teeth as the needle pierced his face, and the pain shattered through the haze his mind had been settling into. He clenched his jaw tightly, screaming anyway through his closed mouth, putting all of his effort into holding still. Hannibal worked quickly, though it still felt like an eternity. Will kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, until he felt the last tug and heard the snip of the scissors.

            “Now we need to move.” Hannibal said. “We’re both going to need fluids, blood if possible. Do you know your blood type?”

            “B.” he said, barely opening his mouth when he spoke. His cheek was throbbing with incredible pain.

            “You have years of experience working with the FBI, Will. Where will they least look for us?”

            Will’s eyes darted back and forth for a moment as he thought. He was too exhausted and in too much pain to realize how much Hannibal was _trusting_ him just then. It was as if he truly, honestly knew that Will was not the same person who had thrown him from the top of the cliff.

            “They won’t expect us to go to DC.” he said. “They would never think we’d be so brazen. And there will be plenty of medical clinics there, closed at these hours.”

            He saw a small smile crack at the corner of Hannibal’s lips, for just a brief moment.

            “Then let’s get to DC.” he said. He started to rise, and immediately Will could see how unsteady he was on his feet.

            “Wait, let me find the keys, get the car started, bring it around front.” he said. Hannibal looked like he wanted to protest, but then weakly sat back down on the couch.

            “Pack us some bags of clothes and food.” Hannibal said. “Bottled water, if they have it. Time is of the essence, Will.”

            Will quickly hurried to follow Hannibal’s directions. He didn’t take time to survey the clothes he was tossing from the hangars into the suitcase he’d found; he simply grabbed whatever was hanging in Mr. Williamson closet and dresser drawers, as much as he could fit. He went back into the living room and grabbed the “yes” pile of pills, tossed those in, and zippered it shut.

            He went to the kitchen, looking for car keys. They were where expected, hanging from hooks near the front door. He grabbed them and stepped outside, walking around to the detached garage, cursing as he saw a punch code on the garage door.

            He glanced around and saw a side door, which was unlocked. Beside it was a garage-opener button, which he pressed, and the door lifted to his relief. There was only one car in the garage, a Mercedes, and he tossed the suitcase in the front seat.

            He got in and roared the car in reverse, pulling it quickly around onto the front lawn, parking it by the front door. He went back in and found Hannibal still sitting on the couch, looking even paler, starting to shiver. He hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a case of bottled water off the pantry shelf and tossed some other canned food and protein bars into a bag. He threw it on the front seat of the car and opened the back door.

            He bent down and slung Hannibal’s arm over his shoulder. He was weaker now, barely able to use his own legs to hold himself up. They stumbled the few steps to the car and he collapsed across the back seat, shivering. Will ran back into the house and grabbed a blanket from the bed, tossed it over him, and slammed the door.

            He floored it, leaving tire marks all over the front lawn. He knew Jack would be following their trail, coming from the south, and so he turned north along the winding road, fumbling with the GPS in the car until he found a different back road that cut through to the highway he wanted.

            He sped at 80, 90 miles per hour, as fast as the highway would allow, daring a cop to pull them over, racing towards DC. Normally it would be over an hour away. He was determined to get there in half that time, if possible.

            He blasted the heat, trying to keep Hannibal from going into shock. It made him sweat, and feel woozy, so he downed one of the bottles of water, keeping his eyes burned on the road, trying to focus without his glasses and at the reckless speeds he was driving.

            They finally entered a suburb, and Will slowed to a normal pace now, not wanting to attract attention. It was late; there was little traffic. He pulled onto the main street and started looking for anything they could use; dental office, vet’s office…and then he saw it, a sign for a walk-in clinic. With the lights still on inside. Someone was closing up.

            Will parked the car directly in front of the door and pounded on it. A tired looking nurse came to it with a face that said “go away”, until she saw the blood on Will’s bare chest. She unlocked the door immediately.

            “My friend is worse than I am. He was shot, please, you have to help us.”

            He said it in his most earnest voice; the honest, Good Will voice that in the past had been who he’d considered to be his true self. Now it was a mask he wore, and he was ready at the slightest turn to threaten this woman with harm if she didn’t comply.

            She took one glance at Hannibal shivering in the backseat and stood up.

            “He needs a hospital.” she said flatly.

            Will’s face went dark.

            “That is not an option for us.” he said, stepping closer to her, his expression such that she backed away, the same look on her face Mrs. Williamson had had. “You will treat him, or I will kill you.”

            Her head darted back and forth between Will and Hannibal a few times, her mind trying to decide if there was a way out of this situation.

            “If you run, I will catch you.” he said, using the Dragon’s words. They halted her in place, but did not spur her into action. “And it is not in your medical obligation to help this man to the best of your ability?”

            She turned back to Hannibal and nodded.

            “I can’t…carry him.” she said. “Let me get a wheelchair…”

            She tried to dart towards the door, and Will’s arm snaked around her neck, trapping her against his chest so fast she lost a shoe.

            “We’ll go together.” he said.

            They walked inside, and Will saw wheelchairs lined along the left wall. He walked her briskly towards them, told her to push it, and released his hold around her neck, only to clamp his grip painfully tightly on both of her shoulders.

            When they got to the car, Will had to let go of her so he could lift Hannibal into the chair, and she broke from him and darted towards the parking lot, a single scream escaping from her throat before Will’s arm was wrapped tightly around her neck.

            “I warned you.” he said. He wrestled with her until she calmed down, tightening his arm around her neck until she stopped flailing. He released his grasp on her neck just enough so that she could gasp for air. “Now _help_ me.” he said.

            She nodded rapidly, and Will pushed her towards the car. She stood on one side of Hannibal and Will on the other, and the two of them managed to get his unconscious body into the wheelchair.

            Will then resumed his position behind her, clasping her fingers to the handles of the chair with his own, and together they wheeled Hannibal inside. Will locked the doors behind them.

            They pushed Hannibal to an examination room, and Will released the nurse.

            “If you run, I _will_ kill you.” he said, and she nodded.

            “I…I won’t.” she panted, and he released her, positioning his body in the hallway so that she couldn’t try for the front door. He was certain there was a back entrance, which was on her mind, but he was confident in his ability to catch her before she ever made it there, should she decide to run.

            He watched her remove a bag of IV fluids and a bag of blood from a refrigeration unit, and she scurried back and forth between Hannibal’s room and several others, opening supply drawers and cabinets. Then she started to work, inserting the IV, hanging the bags on a wheeled pole, administering the blood first.

            “Is he on…has had had…any medications…” she asked, her voice shaky and terrified as her eyes darted up to Will’s face, and then went back to the floor.

            Will listed for her the names of the drugs Hannibal had taken at the Williamson house, and she nodded.

            “That’s good, those are a good start.” She fumbled through the pile of supplies and pulled out a liquid vial, going to inject it into Hannibal’s IV.

            Will put out his hand.

            “Let me read it.”

            She handed it to him, and he saw that it was the same antibiotic Hannibal had taken earlier. He gave it back to her with a nod, and she administered it.

            Hannibal groaned softly, and Will leaned his ear down to listen, and she made a run for it. Will darted after her, catching her before she reached the end of the hall.

            “Too bad for you; I don’t need you anymore.” he said. She screamed and kicked against the air. He snapped her neck, the way he’d snapped Randal Tier’s, the vibration of breaking bone singing in his hands as she fell to the floor, limp.

            He dragged her into the examination room, dumping her unceremoniously along the wall, before he turned back to Hannibal, who was still shivering.

            He tore open cabinets, looking for blankets, finally finding some. He tore open the plastic packages and laid some on the floor, then eased Hannibal out of his wheelchair and, as gently as he could with only one good arm, spread him out on the blankets. He then draped the rest of them over him. He lay down beside him, pressing their bodies together, feeling how cold Hannibal felt.

            He pulled him close, sliding his arm across Hannibal’s chest, high above his gunshot wound. His eyes wandered up to the blood dripping into the IV, hoping that that was enough, hoping that he would be conscious enough to get back to the car before opening hours.

            Will struggled against the desire to doze himself. He was beyond exhaustion, and now that he was still and had nothing to do, he found his adrenaline waning. He struggled to stay awake, moving his hand over Hannibal’s arm, up and down, tracing his skin, trying to keep himself moving so he stayed awake.

            Hannibal stirred. Will let out a deep exhale, having not realized he’d been holding his breath. Hannibal tried to sit up.

            “No, you’ve been passed out. Stay down.” Will said. Hannibal nodded weakly. He turned his head a bit, seeing the feet and legs of the dead nurse poking out from behind the examination table.

            “She stopped being cooperative.” Will said.

            He felt Hannibal give a weak laugh, and then he rested his head on the blanket again.

            They lay for another half hour, until Hannibal stopped shivering. Slowly, they sat him up, a bit of color having returned to his cheeks.

            “Well done, Will.” he said, leaning his back against the examination table. “You have once again saved my life.”

            Will snorted.

            “After once again trying to take it.”

            Hannibal gave him a tired smile.

            “Emphasis on ‘trying’.” he said. “Now let’s take what we need and get back on the road.”

            Hannibal gave Will a list of medical supplies, and he gathered them. He then walked a few businesses down through back parking lots, until he found a body shop with cars sitting in the back, waiting to be serviced. He fumbled around on the front tire until he found the key and drove it to the clinic, hoping that no one would notice it was missing at least for a few hours.

            He wheeled Hannibal back to the car and helped him lie down in the back seat, hanging the IV bags from the garment hook with some string, transferred all their supplies from the other car, and they were back on the road.

            Hannibal was asleep again within minutes, and Will turned the car away from DC, and headed northwest, up towards the mountains.

  

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

He drove for two hours, long past the state line into Pennsylvania. The foothills became mountains, and the road wound along the top of steep cliff sides. Will waited until he found a road that wasn’t on the GPS and turned down it, having a pretty good inkling that it would lead to some sort of hunting or camping grounds. By sheer luck, or by the fate that had wanted them to survive their initial plunge into the sea, Will found exactly what he was looking for.

            There was a truck parked out front, so Will examined the property, slinking silently in the dark around the outside of the cabin, peering into the windows. He saw himself through Dolarhyde’s eyes, then; slinking around outside his and Molly’s cabin, peering into their windows, deciding how best to kill them. But that was all they were to him now; a memory, one more to add to the pile of hundreds of minds that lived in his head; the one he needed right now being Dolarhyde’s, and so that was the mind he used.

            He broke in through the back door, which was flimsier than the front. He heard the shuffling sound of a hunter awoken, and the sound of a shotgun being cocked in the dark. Will stood beside the doorway of the bedroom, his back flattened against the wall. His heart started to race, but not from fear. From excitement. He was going to kill this man, and he had no doubts about that, this time. He was anticipating it. He _wanted_ it.

            He watched as the door opened and the barrel of the gun emerged first, at the ready. Will waited until the muzzle was farther out into the hall than his body, turned, and grabbed it. He butted it back against the hunter’s face, hearing a pained grunt as it slammed against his nose. Will wrested it from his grip in his shock, and then hit him with it in the face again, and again, and again.

            The man fell to the floor and still Will did not stop, bashing his face in with the butt of the shotgun until his face was broken, a bloody, gushing mess on the floor. The moment he stopped moving, Will felt the surge of power bubble up in him; a searing, hot light of golden ambrosia coursing through his veins. Sure, there had been other options. But none as quick. None as…beautiful.

            He tossed the shotgun to the floor and went to the front door, unlocking it. He disconnected Hannibal from the now empty bag of blood, helped Hannibal stumble inside, and brought him to the bed where the man had been sleeping, still warm. They both crawled into it and in seconds Will was asleep, his body finished, not a drop of energy left.

 

            Jack stood over the body of the dead nurse in the clinic just outside Washington, hands stuffed in the pockets of his overcoat, a deep frown on his face.

            With Mrs. Williamson, it had been unclear who had killed her. While it hardly seemed to matter at this point, he’d still been hoping it was Hannibal. A case could be made for self-defense against Will killing Dolarhyde, and a case could be made that Will was too weakened from the fight and fall into the sea to stop Hannibal from killing Mrs. Williamson.

            But no case could be made for the nurse, as Will’s fingerprints, and _only_ Will’s fingerprints, were found on her neck and face. He’d snapped it cleanly, without hesitancy.

            “I’m sorry, Jack.” Price said, putting his hand on his shoulder. Jack only sighed heavily.

            “It appears Mr. Graham has finally made his decision.” Jack said, his eyes glancing over at the wheelchair, and the strewn medical supplies lying about. They were injured, both of them. Too hurt to worry about not leaving evidence, and on the run. Now was his best chance to catch them, and he knew it. They would have to stop to rest.

           

            “These men are incredibly dangerous.” Jack said to the FBI team and smattering of local law enforcement that crowded the debriefing room. Will and Hannibal’s photos loomed large behind him on the projector screen, and he did everything he could not to look at them.

            “You all know what the Chesapeake Ripper is capable of. Now he has on his side a former agent of the law, familiar with the inner workings of the FBI and law enforcement. They are both incredibly intelligent, unpredictable, and desperate. They’re both severely injured, which will slow their flight.” he said, leveling his eyes slowly across the crowd, meeting as many gazes as he could to emphasize his point. “But this will _not_ make them any less dangerous. Do not try to apprehend them. We are authorized to kill on sight. And if you hesitate, they will kill you.”

            Jack held back his tears until he was in his office, alone, door closed. Even then, he only let a few fall as he clutched the coffee mug in his hands. They were tears of guilt, not sorrow, and guilt wouldn’t serve him right now. He’d have time for that later, when he attended Will’s funeral.

            There was a knock on his door.

            “Come in.”

            An agent leaned her head in, though she did not enter the room.

            “Sir, they’re ready for the press conference.”

            “Good.” he said. He rose slowly from his chair and got ready to make a similar speech to the public. They would have their faces on every major network and newspaper in the country in a few hours. They would not be able to hide using anonymity; though he had little hope that would do anything to stop them.

 

            They both slept for the first two days. Will awakened completely parched and stumbled to the sink, where he drank straight from the faucet in long, desperate gulps. He walked back through the darkness to Hannibal, who hadn’t stirred. If it wasn’t for his soft breathing, he’d have worried if he was alive.

            Will heard a buzzing sound and stumbled towards the doorway, feeling for a light switch. He found it and looked down at the body of the hunter, already covered in flies. Grunting, he grabbed his feet and dragged him out into the hallway, mostly with his left arm, his right shoulder screaming at him.

            He continued dragging the hunter down the hall and to the front door. He tossed him down the three cement steps and slightly to the side, where he would be out of the way. He then went to the car and pulled out their bags of supplies, stumbling back into the house, exhausted, hungry.

            He hooked a bag of IV fluids up to Hannibal and tied it to the curtain rod over the window, and gave him another vial of antibiotics. He dug hungrily through the food they’d stolen from the Williamson’s kitchen and made himself some soup, took a piss, and then crashed back into bed beside Hannibal.

           

            The next time Will awoke, it was because Hannibal was stroking a finger gently down his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and a smile sprang to his lips; the smile he’d been fighting his entire life and had never allowed to surface fully. And now he did.

            “It’s good to see you too.” Hannibal said. Will let his eyes flutter closed as he leaned his cheek into Hannibal’s touch.

            “I was worried for awhile if you’d make it.” he said.

            “I’ve always recovered from your attempts to kill me before.” Hannibal stated, and Will set his jaw.

            “I wasn’t trying to kill you.” he said, opening his eyes again. Even lying disheveled and dirty and barely alive on the bed, Hannibal managed to cock his head slightly in the most civilized and professional manner.

            Will reached out his fingers, tentatively, towards Hannibal’s face. Hannibal had touched Will’s face countless times, but he had never before returned the gesture. He let his fingertips slide gently down his cheek, slowly, reverently. Hannibal’s hand came up to rest on Will’s wrist, though he didn’t pull him away. Will continued to stroke his cheek gently.

            “Oh? Then what were you attempting to do?”

            Will gave a shaky smile, his lips pressing into a hard line that barely kept back the sobs that wanted to tear from his chest.

            “I was trying to kill _us_.” he said.

            Hannibal cocked his head again, and Will felt his heart flutter at the movement that was just so…Hannibal.

            “And yet it appears you’ve put great effort into our survival since then.”

            Will snorted a laugh.

            “We survived.” he replied. “I let the cliff make my decision for me.”

            He rolled onto his back, then slowly tipped his feet towards the ground and rose. He turned his head over his shoulder, but not enough to make eye contact.

            “You were right; a different man emerged from the water. The man you’ve always wanted.”

            He didn’t look at Hannibal then, but stepped out of the room and towards the kitchen. He had to make Hannibal eat something, to get up his strength, even if all they had was canned food that he was sure he’d try to refuse.

 

            Two more days went by before Hannibal was well enough to sit up. Will had forced him to eat the canned soup, laughing at the face he made as he bit into the salty ingredients. He refused to chew it after that, instead swallowing the bits whole, trying to reduce the assault of horrible flavors on his tongue.

            “Let me guide you to change my dressings.” Hannibal said. He sat on the bed, feet on the floor, and Will kneeled behind him. He took a pair of scissors and slid them up Hannibal’s skin, one blade under the cellophane wrap while he snipped. Hannibal shivered as Will dragged the blade up his back.

            He put his other hand on his bare waist, feeling the warmth there, his fingers tender, gentle. It reminded him of the time Hannibal had bandaged his hand after he’d killed Randall Tier. Intimate.

            Will dipped a washcloth into a bowl of warm water and began wiping away the dried blood from around Hannibal’s wound, leaving the bloodiest bit of towel over the hole, as instructed. He re-covered it with proper gauze from their supplies, and Hannibal attended to the hole in his abdomen himself. Once that was done he wrapped him in medical gauze, holding the bandages in place, and helped Hannibal to his feet.

            He used the restroom and then returned to sit on the bed, having no strength for anything else.

            “How terribly I would like to take a shower.” he said.

            “Well.” Will replied, getting up and lifting the bowl of bloodied water. “We can at least wash your face and hair.”

            Hannibal gave him a small smile, yet it cracked his normal exterior shell. Will felt his heart flutter again at seeing it.

            _I let you see me_.

            He swallowed heavily and went back to the kitchen to dump the bowl. He assessed the kitchen sink and placed a chair in front of it, for Hannibal to sit in. He was tall enough that he could lean his head back into it, and Will could wash his hair. The thought alone made Will’s heart beat faster. So many emotions were swirling through him and yet he knew they were all so simple, if he would only admit the truth.

            Rather than do that, he walked back to the bedroom and helped Hannibal to his feet, guiding him down the hall and to the kitchen. He sat him in the chair, folding a towel several times over for him to rest his neck on as he tipped his head back into the sink.

            Will ran the water until it was hot, then filled a cup and poured it over Hannibal’s hair. He ran his fingers through it, his tips rubbing along his scalp, and he watched as Hannibal closed his eyes, pleasure on his face. Will lathered up shampoo and scrubbed it through Hannibal’s hair, slowly, reverently. Taking much longer than was necessary. His eyes never left Hannibal’s face. He poured the warm water over his hair, rinsing away the shampoo, and finally turned off the sink and patted his hair dry.

            When Hannibal opened his eyes, they bore into Will’s, and in them he saw the question. Will was finished fighting himself. In that moment when he had let it all go, letting his blade slice through Dolarhyde, his eyes locked onto Hannibal’s, he’d already known. He’d not only let go of his resistance to his enjoyment of killing, but he let go of _all_ the resistant walls he’d put up.

            He leaned down slowly, bringing their faces closer, and Hannibal only raised an eyebrow, still questioning.

            “Yes.” Will replied, his breath washing over Hannibal’s lips.

            “I didn’t ask…”

            “Oh, but you did.” Will interrupted, and lowered his lips to brush against Hannibal’s. He gave a short, surprised moan, and when Will didn’t pull away, a longer, deeper one. Will felt electricity spark down his spine, and he parted his lips only to close them again, feeling how they slid against Hannibal’s, feeling what it did to his heart and his body.

            Hannibal lifted a hand gingerly, resting it on Will’s hip. Will turned his head, making the angle of their kiss less awkward, letting Hannibal draw him in. The kiss changed from gentle to desperate; Hannibal’s lips opened and his teeth emerged, sucking Will in between them, rolling his lip against them. Will moaned and dropped the cup of water he’d been holding into the sink, his dripping hands coming to rest on the sides of Hannibal’s face.

            He pulled back for breath and dove in again, feeling the heat rise, and it was the _same_ feeling he felt when he’d killed Mrs. Williamson, and the nurse, and the hunter. _Hannibal_. The feeling was Hannibal. He drove his lips into him, until their teeth were clacking, tongues desperate to explore and take and _have_.

            Will straddled the chair and sank onto Hannibal’s lap, his legs wide as his feet rested on the floor. Hannibal’s arms rose to slide around his back and pull him in closer. Will tilted his head to the side, driving his tongue deeper into Hannibal’s mouth, only to find Hannibal’s pushing back, taking, taking, until Will was invaded by him, surrounded by him.

            Pain shot through his right cheek and he gasped, jerking back, his hand automatically flying to his cheek.

            “Shhh, don’t touch it, that will only aggravate it more.” Hannibal whispered, his hand wandering up to brush through Will’s hair. “My apologies; I was lost in the heat of the moment.”

            Will’s eyes bored into his and he did not turn away.

            “Isn’t that all we ever do? Get lost in each other?”

            He saw the smirk pull at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, and Will wanted to smile, but the pain wouldn’t allow him to.

            “You are much more insightful, now that you have accepted yourself.” Hannibal said. Will snorted.

            “You mean now that I’ve accepted _you_.”

            Hannibal gave him another smile; he’d given so many in the past few hours that Will could make the claim Hannibal was a different person, too. Except he wasn’t; he was himself, as he ‘d always been. He was just now allowing Will to see it.

            “While it gives me great pleasure that you have also accepted me,” Hannibal said, his fingers stroking gently through Will’s mess of curls, and now that he thought about it, he wanted a shower, as well, “it is even _more_ important that you have accepted yourself, Will.”

            Will looked into his eyes with a playful expression.

            “No matter what else we become, you’ll always be my psychiatrist, won’t you?”

            Hannibal smiled _again_.

            “It’s in my nature. Neither of us can fight our natures, Will.”

            Will snorted and then leaned in again, for another kiss. Hannibal put his hands flat against Will’s chest and gently pushed him away.

            “You need to let your cheek heal.”

            “It’s healing just fine.” he said, and pushed in for another kiss, and this time, Hannibal did not deny him.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

“No new evidence in over a week.” Jack said calmly, but then rose from his chair and pounded his fist on his desk. “They’ve gone to ground! We’ve missed our opportunity.”

            The team assembled in front of him didn’t say a word. Jack wasn’t used to working with so many…strangers. He looked amongst the crowd, wishing to find Will there, or Hannibal, or Alana. They were all gone.

            He paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back.

            “Does anyone have _any_ ideas?”

            A braver agent stepped forward.

            “Perhaps, given their injuries, they’ve died, sir.”

            Jack shook his head.

            “No, because then we would have found their bodies.” he said. “They’re hiding.” he turned and looked up at the large projection of the map of DC and the surrounding areas. Where was Will when he needed him?

            “Where are you?” he said, squinting at the map.

 

            Hannibal wouldn’t eat.

            “You need to get your strength up.”

            “There is no strength in that…abhorrent slop you call food.” he replied, sitting at the table, now, glaring at the canned soup with personal offense. He was strong enough to walk around the cabin a bit, but still looked pale and got dizzy easily.

            “What would you have me do? Stroll into the nearest town and go grocery shopping?” Will snapped.

            Hannibal stared at the tabletop with a glazed look on his face. He was still very weak. At least he was drinking water.

            “I’m sure you will figure something out.” he said flatly. Will sighed heavily and rose to his feet. He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and headed towards the front door.

            “Where are you going?” Hannibal asked, not turning in his seat.

            “To figure something out.”

 

            Will drove along the back roads of the mountains, making a mental note of the turns he made so he could find his way back. He’d removed the GPS from the car the moment he’d thought to, not putting it past Jack to use that to find them. He was certain every cop in Pennsylvania and the surrounding states were on the lookout for this vehicle, now. Maybe he’d trade it in for something older and even less likely to be missed, while he was out.

            He meandered down into the foothills, where the trees gave way to farmland. He stopped along the side of the road to pluck some fresh ears of corn. Corn was hardly nutritious, but it was better than nothing, and it was fresh. Hannibal would eat it. He drove another few miles and came upon a tomato field. He smiled to himself. Now this was more like it.

            He was whistling to himself, plucking the ripest and juiciest tomatoes, when he heard another vehicle stop near his on the road. He turned and saw an older man in overalls hop down from an old pickup.

            “Hey! Get off my property, you thief!” he said, running down the embankment towards Will.

            Will rose, placing the tomatoes he’d picked gently on the ground.

            “My apologies.” he said. “My family and I are just…very hungry.” he said. The man froze, stopping to take Will in, and Will saw his demeanor change. Saw recognition in his eyes.

            Apparently, Jack was doing his job after all.

            The man turned and started to run back towards the road, but it was too late. Will was twice as fast and had his arm around his throat before he’d gone five feet. With a familiarity that was becoming routine, he snapped his neck _with pleasure_ , a honey golden light surrounding him and penetrating him as he felt the man take his last few breaths and grow limp in his arms.

            Will dragged his kill back to the truck. He hadn’t intended to get fresh meat, but he frankly should have thought of it. Hannibal wouldn’t be able to resist eating _now_.

            He transferred the corn and tomatoes he’d picked into the cab of the truck, and left the car on the side of the road. It was far enough from their cabin that he didn’t feel too threatened when it came to Jack’s attention. Jack could probably search the mountains for a year and not find them, and if it came to that, Will knew how to survive in the wilderness.

            Will was back at the cabin just as the sun was setting, and he opened the front door with a smile on his face, still high from the kill.

            “Honey, I’m home.” he said, dropping the fresh corn and tomatoes onto the table. Hannibal was sitting in an armchair in the living room, drawing on a pad he’d found somewhere. He looked up as Will walked over to him, unable to keep the grin from his face.

            “I take it you have more than just corn and tomatoes, to warrant a smile like that.”

            Will graciously leaned forward, offering his hand to Hannibal, who took it, grunting with pain as he stood. He led him to the front door and opened the back door of the car, where the head of the farmer fell limp as it hung upside-down. 

            Hannibal stepped gingerly down the three cement stairs to the car, still holding Will’s hand, leaning on it harder than he’d probably intended to keep his balance. He tilted his head in to inspect the meat and took a long, deep inhaling breath.

            He straightened up and turned, the spark in his eyes mirrored in the full, unhindered smile on his lips.

            “You never cease to surprise me, Will.”

            Will found himself smiling back, as he’d always wanted to, but before now, had never allowed himself.

            “Tell me how the hunt went.”

            Will gave a soft chuckle and looked down at the ground with…a blush? He was blushing.

            “It was hardly a hunt. He walked right up to me, yelling that I was stealing his tomatoes.”

            Hannibal nodded once, his eyes becoming glazed for a moment, his smile falling away.

            “Well, neither of us are in condition to hunt properly. This will do, for now.” he said.

 

            Will’s left arm was the only strength either of them had, so Hannibal sat on a lawn chair they found and gave Will verbal directions on how to gut and clean the meat. They moved around to the side of the cabin, away from the rotting hunter who was next to the front steps, and Hannibal sipped from a glass of water while he gave instructions.

            “Careful not to damage the liver, Will. This is a healthy looking specimen so it will be full of nutrients and vitamins we both need.”

            He nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead with his forearm as he worked. He tried not to glance up at the farmer’s face, but kept his focus on his task, treating it as much like a fish as he could, though the similarities were few.

            “Does this bother you?” Hannibal asked him, the third time he found himself glancing at the man’s face.

            Will thought for a moment. He hadn’t really had _time_ to stop and think, before now. They’d been on the run, fighting for survival, not a moment to pause and assess how he felt.

            “It…bothers me how little it bothers me.” he admitted, continuing to work, gripping the man’s liver carefully, cutting the flesh around it to keep it intact.

            Hannibal nodded and took a sip of his water.

            “But you don’t regret what you’re doing.”  
            “Not at all.”

            Will felt his heart beat faster, then, with the same glowing, amber light that he felt when he’d killed the farmer. And the hunter. And the nurse. And Mrs. Williamson.

            “I’ve killed four people in as many days.” he said plainly, laying the liver gently on the clean tarp they’d set up, and diving back in to begin removing the stomach and intestines.

            “You have. And?”

            Will shrugged.

            “I like it. You were right.”

            He didn’t glance up from his work, but even so he could _feel_ Hannibal’s smile from where he sat beside him. He worked until sunset, until Hannibal was satisfied and they were losing light, and together the two of them hoisted the carcass up by its ankles, on a rope looped over a branch to drain overnight. Hannibal reverently lifted the liver into his hands, holding it as gently as an infant.

            “I’ve given you so many gifts, Will.” he said. “And when I’d thought you’d given me the gift of Freddie Lounds…”  
            For a moment, heavy guilt clawed its way into Will’s otherwise exhausted heart. He stepped forward and put his hands over Hannibal’s, over the liver, holding them together in his hands.

            “This is real.” he said. “I’m sorry…that I took so long, to come to you.”

            Hannibal’s eyes met his then, in the fading light. He leaned forward, and Will met him, their lips coming together over the liver, a lingering, chaste, heartfelt kiss.

            Hannibal pulled away softly, but remained close.

            “I didn’t bring it up to revisit old wounds.” he said. “But rather to point out the depth to which _this_ gift touches me.”

            Will lifted his hand to Hannibal’s cheek, covered in blood, and he leaned into Will’s touch. They stood perfectly still, for a moment, neither saying a word, before Hannibal winced from the effort of standing.

            “I have to get this prepped and cooked, before it spoils.” he said, and Will moved to his side to help him up the steps into the cabin.

 

           

            Jack paced back and forth, brow wrinkled, deep rings under his eyes. It has been three weeks since they’d found the car, stolen from a shop a few businesses down from the clinic where they’d killed…where _Will_ had killed the nurse.

            Now a farmer was missing. Along with his truck. Without so much as a _trace_.

            “They _have_ to be somewhere in these mountains!” Jack shouted at a room full of people who were, in all fairness, as tired as he was. “They’re injured, they can’t travel; they’re faces are _plastered everywhere_ , they can’t go anywhere near a population. They’re resorted to _hunting_ for…meat.” he shuddered, trying not to remember how much of Hannibal’s cooking he’d eaten. “A farmer, two hikers, and now a forest ranger have gone missing from _this area_.” he said, smacking the screen on which the image was projected, a bright red circle encompassing an area of twenty square miles. It was a huge area, but there was no way to narrow it down.

            “We have six teams searching in a grid pattern, sir…” someone offered.

            “A grid pattern! Are you fucking _joking_? Will is _one of us_ , he can _easily_ evade that!”

            Feet shifted uneasily and eyes averted Jack, no one else daring to speak.

            “Where are the dogs?” he asked, snapping his head towards…Thompson, was it?

            “Two of the search teams have dogs with them, sir. They have the scents of all the missing persons, along with Dr. Lecter and Mr. Graham. Nothing yet.”

            Jack sighed and sank weakly into his chair.

            “We’re not going to catch them.” he said, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t catch Hannibal when Will was _helping_ the FBI. Now that he was working against them, he knew he had no chance.

 

            “I believe I’m strong enough to move, perhaps tomorrow.” Hannibal said, using the mismatched knife and fork as if it were polished silverware, cutting the steak that he _still_ somehow made delicious with the meager ingredients available to him. Will took a bite of it, closing his eyes to savor it, knowing Hannibal still watched every mouthful he swallowed with attentive reverence.

            “We should.” Will said. “It won’t be long before they find this place, now.”

            He reached down to ruffle the fir of the K-9 that sat dutifully beside him, as he took another bite of his previous owner. The dog oddly didn’t seem to mind. He must not have been a very good owner.

            “Where do you suggest we go?” Hannibal asked. Will snorted, a smirk flashing across his lips before fading again.

            “You’re asking me? You’re the one with the long-term, run away together plans. Or has the place you made for us become compromised?”

            Hannibal smiled at Will’s words, and he paused to take another bite of dinner before replying.

            “No, it has not. And once we get to Europe, I will again take the lead. But for now, we are in your territory, Will. You know Jack, and the decisions he will make, far better than I. So until we get out of the country, I defer to you.”

            Will snorted, a smile flashing across his lips again as he stared blankly at the table. His heart glowed with the trust Hannibal was putting in him; even though he didn’t deserve it; even though he’d done nothing but spend the last five years betraying Hannibal, repeatedly.

            “You’re silent again.”

            Will forced his eyes to focus, lifting his gaze up to Hannibal’s face.

            “It’s like the last three years never happened.” he said. “I spent so much…energy, and time, trying to forget you, and then…”

            Hannibal only stared at him, supplying no words, waiting to hear what Will would or would not confess.

            “The moment I saw you again, I knew. I knew it would end with us together. How long we would live I wasn’t sure of…”

            “And yet, here we are.”

            Will nodded.

            “Here we are.”

            Hannibal smiled, cutting another perfect cube of meat before spearing it with his fork.

            “You are enjoying your new self quite a bit. We have more meat than we could possibly consume.”

            Will snorted, the smile that had been flashing across his face now becoming permanent.

            “I am. Though.” he said, and Hannibal finished swallowing the piece he’d been chewing, placed his silverware down, and rose to look Will in his eyes.

            “Though?”

            Will leaned forward, reaching his hands across the table. Hannibal’s met his, their fingers entwining.

            “I enjoy hunting. I enjoy killing. But I miss killing _with_ you.” he said.

            The smile that spread across Hannibal’s face was wide and bright. Will’s heart fluttered to see it; it was normally _so_ well hidden, covered by the person-suit, so that no one would see the delight on the face of the monster.

            Will was granted permission to see. And it set his blood alight.

            “Tomorrow, then.” Hannibal said. “I am strong enough.”

 

            They packed everything they needed into the pickup truck. The antibiotics were gone and they finally, finally, no longer needed bandages. They also didn’t pack any of the meat. Will assured Hannibal they’d be getting plenty of fresh along the way. The plan was to make it look like they were driving west. They were going to leave a trail for Jack; mountains of evidence to guide him in the wrong direction, and then the actual plan was to head to New York, where Hannibal would purchase a private yacht to take them to Europe.

            He had access to unlimited funds under various pseudonyms, he assured Will. All Will had to do was throw off Jack’s scent.

            It seemed simple enough. For the last time they settled into bed in the cabin, and Will could tell Hannibal was happy to leave it behind. The bed was grimy by now, covered in their blood and sweat, not that it had been clean to begin with.

            Hannibal settled in behind Will, wrapping his arm around his waist to pull him close. Will shifted back a little, to get closer, until there was no space left between them. He felt Hannibal press light kisses to his temple and the side of his face, his lips tracing reverently over the pink scar that now adorned his cheek.

            “I know you can’t wait to sleep in a clean bed again.” he said.

            “I am greatly looking forward to it, yes.”

            “You could sleep on the couch, you know. It’s cleaner.”

            He felt Hannibal’s smile as it pressed against his cheek.

            “A dirty bed with you beside me is preferable to a clean bed where you are lacking.” he said, and Will felt his heart race. Hannibal’s hand slid up his chest to press against it, and he knew Hannibal felt the effect he had on his heart.

            “What are we waiting for?” Will asked softly. They had exchanged nothing more than a few affectionate gestures since that first heated kiss in the kitchen, even though it was obvious to them both where they wanted this to go.

            “More ideal circumstances, I am sure.” Hannibal said, lifting his hand to brush through Will’s hair. He sighed contentedly at his touch. “I’ve waited so long for you, Will, that another few weeks or months is hardly a trial.”

            Will sighed heavily and melted into Hannibal’s arms.

            “Even though it was my fault that we had to suffer apart,” he said softly, “I was waiting all that time, too. Waiting for myself to realize where I belonged.”

            He heard the contented sigh behind him and smiled. He enjoyed telling Hannibal, frequently, that he knew he belonged with him now. The words had a beautiful effect, making his entire mask fall away so that Will could _see_ him.

            “Rest, now, dear Will.” he said. “You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

They were on the highway by dawn. The first stop they made was at a gas station, and the poor attendant recognized them and was met with a crowbar in the back of his skull. Hannibal helped Will move him into the bathroom and lock him inside, where he wouldn’t be found for at least a few hours, giving them as much lead time as possible. They also left the dog there, though it broke Will’s heart to do it. They couldn’t bring it with them and he knew it, so he locked it in the bathroom with the dead attendant, knowing that eventually he’d be found, and given to the police as evidence, who would hopefully then recognize he was an FBI dog and have him returned to them.

            “Would you have killed him had he not recognized us?” Hannibal asked, unable to keep the smile from his lips. Will tipped back the soda he’d stolen from the gas station, drinking the last few drops of it. He smiled coyly and glanced Hannibal’s way, keeping one eye on the road.

            “Probably.”

            He saw the smile blossom over Hannibal’s face. Not a shred of his mask was present, and it did things to Will’s heart, and other places.

            “You are coming into your own, Will.”

            “Just you wait.” he said.

            They drove until dusk, and then past. Will watched the clock, waiting for it to become late enough that people were home, and then asleep. He was starting to feel a little sleepy himself when he finally pulled into a town. Will drove carefully down the residential streets, eyeing the houses, looking for exactly what he had in mind. He saw a yard with toys on the lawn and passed by it. He would never hurt children. Not after Abigail.

            He drove until he saw a house with two cars parked in the driveway, and no visible sign of children, no balls, no swing set in the back yard. Just a couple. Exactly what he wanted.

            He pulled the truck into the driveway, blocking one of the cars. He hopped out of the truck and stretched, his back and ass sore from hours of sitting. Hannibal got out of the other side and did the same.

            Will wordlessly walked around to the bed of the truck and removed the hunting backpack with all of their supplies. He slung it over his shoulder and walked around to the back of the house, nothing more than an unlocked gate in his way. He paused at the back door, and flashed through his mind for all the ways he knew how to break in, from all the killers whose minds he’d occupied.

            He felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

            “Allow me.”

            Hannibal unzipped the backpack and rifled through it, pulling out two paperclips. Gloveless, as the point was to leave as much evidence as possible, he knelt to the ground and began picking at the lock on the door.

            Will heard a soft click, and Hannibal rose. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, gesturing with his hand as a gentleman would to a lady for Will to step through. Will’s heart fluttered, more than it should, and he wasn’t sure if it was from that or the anticipation of their first real, planned kill together.

            In the kitchen, Will opened the backpack and took out the hunting knife he’d grown so fond of. It was covered in the blood of the last kill he had cleaned. He knew, in some back part of his mind, that it was unsanitary to clean your food with a dirty knife. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Using a knife that had the blood of his last kill still on it was exciting for him, and he had stopped questioning why.

            Will looked up from the knife and met Hannibal’s gaze. In the darkness, his eyes shone with brilliance and anticipation.

            “I am not like you. I enjoy…mess.” he said, holding the dirty knife up to the moonlight that filtered in through the window.

            “Nor do I want you to be like me.” Hannibal said. “I only ever wanted you to come into your own, Will.”

            Will’s eyes left his knife and locked onto Hannibal’s face. He flashed him a grin.

            “I’ll kill the bride. You can have the husband.” he said.

            He saw Hannibal’s smile returned to him, unhindered, unmasked, _real_.

            “However you wish to do it, dear Will.”

            Will turned, his ears prickling from heat as a blush rose to his cheeks. He left the pack of supplies, and headed for the stairs, knife firmly clasped in his right hand. He didn’t care what weapon Hannibal chose, if any; only that he kill with him.

            Will walked softly down the hall, looking in each of the bedrooms, making absolutely certain there were no children. He would not create any more orphans; never again. Once he was satisfied, he paused outside the bedroom door and closed his eyes.

            He inhaled, feeling Hannibal just behind him, poised, ready. His heart shone within him from anticipation alone. He opened the door quietly and saw them, a young Asian couple, asleep facing each other. They looked serene, peaceful, and he wanted to keep them that way. It was exactly what he wanted.

            He walked softly to her side of the bed and waited for Hannibal to be in position. Will reached down and took ahold of the back of her hair in his fingers tightly. Her eyes flew open and she attempted to scream, but instead blood sprang forth from her throat at the slice of Will’s knife. Still she struggled, reaching for her husband, who awoke to Hannibal’s hands tight around his neck.

            He fought, but was no match for Hannibal’s strength. Her blood sprayed across him, across the bed, across Hannibal, and Will’s heart started to sing. He held her tightly, keeping her in place, her struggles weakening along with her husband.

            As they reached for each other, Will’s eyes left them and rose to meet Hannibal’s. Their gazes locked, heat rising in Will’s cheeks, that golden ambrosia light rising within him. He felt the life leave her and shine into him; her love for her husband brilliant to the last. He gasped his last breaths beside her and fell unconscious, his windpipe crushed, his lungs unable to get air.

            Without once removing his eyes from Hannibal, Will folded his knife and slipped it into his pocket, covered in blood, his hands dripping with it. He walked around the bed, gaze still locked onto Hannibal, and grasped his shirt into his fist. Heart racing, pulse pounding in his ears, he crushed their lips together, and Hannibal came to him.

            He wrapped his arms tightly around Will’s back, his breath erratic, his lips warm and wet. His tongue left Will’s lips for a moment to trace over his cheek, his scar, his chin, lapping up the blood, and Will did the same, licking Hannibal’s face like a wild dog. He heard himself growling; not having consciously decided to do it, but pleased with the effect it had on Hannibal.

            Will pulled their lips back together and bit.

            Hannibal growled back, though it almost sounded like a purr.

            “You like my mess.” Will whispered into his lips.

            “I am enraptured by anything you do, Will.”

            Will crushed his lips to Hannibal again, and then pulled away, slowly.

            “I’m not finished.”

            “I didn’t expect you were.”

            Will then went to work. He sliced the husband’s throat, standing for a long moment, watching it bleed into the mattress, mingle with the blood from his wife, until the two oozing puddles were inseparable. Struck by sudden inspiration, he rolled the man onto his back and moved his arms to his sides, out of the way.

            He plunged his knife into the man’s chest and cut upwards, sawing at his rib cage, cracking it open, the blood pouring out of him, down Will’s pants, onto the floor. Everything was liquid and his own heart shone as he reached in and cut the man’s heart free of its constraints.

            He walked around the bed, wiping sweat from his face with his bloody hand, his eyes darting up to Hannibal, sitting in the desk chair, watching him. His face was absolutely enraptured, and Will found it nearly impossible to tear his eyes from him as he went to work on the wife.

            He did the same to her, cracking open her rib cage, the sound the loudest in the room, and cut out her heart.

            He then rolled them back into position, the way he’d found them; facing each other, arms outstretched towards each other. He placed her heart in her husband’s hands, and his in hers. He took a step back to admire them, and a deep, drowning surge of life came and overwhelmed him.

            “It’s perfect.” Hannibal said, rising to his feet. Will glanced at him and dropped his knife as he approached. Their kisses were frantic, heated, passionate.

            Hannibal’s hands were suddenly all over Will; no shred of the restraint he normally carried anywhere to be found. He tore at Will’s shirt, ripping the buttons of the flannel garment until it was in tatters on the floor. His nails dug desperately into Will’s flesh and Will groaned, tilting his head back, baring his throat.           

            Hannibal pushed him until he was against the wall, and Will went, willingly. Hannibal’s teeth grazed over his throat, nipping at his flesh, licking the blood of their victims from his skin. Hannibal’s palms pressed hard against his bare chest and sides, smears of red following his fingers.

            Will’s hands fumbled to remove Hannibal’s shirt. Hannibal snarled in his ear, and Will gave him an answering growl. No masks at all now, the monsters revealed themselves to each other in euphoric frenzy.

            Hannibal ground forward, pushing his erection against Will’s, and Will’s body bloomed with heat. Language was lost to him, to them, and yet they had never been so close. He felt Hannibal’s muscular body pinning him to the wall and acquiesced, baring his throat, purrs coming from deep in his chest.

            Hannibal’s hands darted down to Will’s fly and made quick work of it. Will kicked off his shoes and helped him remove every bit of clothing from him. He went to do the same to Hannibal but he was already there, tearing the farmer’s jeans from him, removing the last layer of unwanted humanness from his body.

            He flipped Will around and slammed him face-first into the wall, two perfect, bloody handprints for Jack to find later, his hot body pressing roughly against Will, pinning him. Will moaned, tilting his head to the side. Hannibal lowered his teeth to his neck and nipped at him again, snarling, his fingernails scraping down Will’s sides.

            Will arched his back with pleasure, feeling Hannibal’s pent up want of _years_ , finally coming to the surface. He felt Hannibal’s cock press up between his ass cheeks, and he leaned his lips in to snarl into Will’s ear.

            “You’d _better_.” Will rasped, his breath heavy and thick. Hannibal grunted and left him, the air cold at his back, and Will held still as he waited. The blood on his hands was already drying, his fingers sticky. He curled them, feeling it crack as he did so, listening to the squishing sounds behind him as Hannibal did something with the bodies. He didn’t care what.

            Hannibal was back, the heat from his breath washing over Will’s shoulder. He wrapped one arm tightly around Will’s stomach, and with his other hand, Will felt his cock sliding between his ass cheeks.

            Heat flushed through him as he felt the slickness. He didn’t care to ask; though he figured it was _something_ from one of the corpses. Hannibal pushed into him without preamble and Will cried out from the pain. He tipped his head back, his teeth bared to the ceiling as Hannibal penetrated and tore him.

            They panted, their breaths heaving from their chests, Will’s palms pressed flat against the wall. Hannibal’s arms wrapped around him, holding him up, steady, but Will’s knees faltered. They buckled, and Hannibal slid out of him to guide him to the floor. He fell to all fours, his fingers grasping deeply into the carpet as Hannibal entered him again.

            Will was so used to pain, and to Hannibal being the source of it, that he found himself pushing back _towards_ him, rather than away. He felt Hannibal’s fingers wrap into his hair and _pull_ , as he had done so many other times, in so many other intimate moments.

            Will groaned from pain as Hannibal started to move, stretching him, making him cry out with every thrust. He tightened his grip in Will’s hair, yanking his head back, and Will moaned, his body shuddering from the intense sensations running through it.

            Will felt Hannibal’s chest come down to mold into his back. He arched up into him, eager to be close, pushing back into the pain, desperate to have Hannibal inside him. They both panted and growled softly, neither caring to use words; the human facade dropped from both of them like a shed skin, raw beasts, free and real in the night.

            Pleasure started to sing up Will’s spine in spite of the pain. With each of Hannibal’s thrusts, he thrust back, desperate to have him _closer_ , more _near_. He could feel Hannibal’s cock growing even harder inside him, getting closer to the edge, closer to ecstasy.

            Hannibal put his full weight on Will, Will’s arms now responsible for holding them both up, and grasped his hips. He fucked him _hard_ , slamming into him, the sound of their flesh slapping together echoing against the bloody walls. Hannibal wrapped one arm around Will’s throat, holding them together, not separated by a single sliver of air. With his other hand he reached down and wrapped his fingers around Will’s cock.

            Will moaned into the touch, growing hard despite – no, because of the pain as Hannibal pounded into him, his breath close and brushing into his ear. Will’s thrusts now brought him two kinds of pleasure; bringing Hannibal deeper into him and Will tighter into his hands. Hannibal’s pounding became more desperate, even more erratic, and for a moment his fingers stilled, squeezing Will painfully tight. He moaned into the back of Will’s neck as he came, and Will moaned with him, feeling the pleasure of his lover.

            Hannibal was quick to come back to his senses, and his hand started to move along Will’s length again. His hand was strong and sure, his grip tight, and Will didn’t last long at all. He moaned, his cum dripping onto the carpet, mixing with the dried blood of their kill.

            His elbows collapsed, and they fell in a heap onto the floor. Hannibal rested his full weight on top of Will, still inside him, and Will breathed in deeply.

            Hannibal slowly slid out of him, and Will winced from the pain. They otherwise didn’t move, and lay still, curled in each other’s arms, at the foot of the bed on the floor. Hannibal reached up a hand, covered in dried blood and cum, and gently pushed Will’s curls out of his eyes.

            “Beautiful.” Hannibal said.

            “What you expected?” Will asked through the pants in his breath, turning a bit so he could face him. Hannibal smiled, one corner of his lips upturning higher than the other.

            “With you? _Never_.” he said. “You always surprise me, Will.”

            Will sighed into his arms, and fell asleep. No one would be coming for hours, perhaps even days, to look for two childless people who didn’t show up for work. In the morning, he would finish his design; but for now, sleeping among it was heaven.

 

            Will awakened to the sun shining on his face. The first thing he felt was the warmth of Hannibal’s naked body pressed up behind him, one arm still curled around his stomach. He smiled softly, and felt the crack of dried blood on his face peel as he moved his lips. Where they were, and what they had done, came back to him slowly. His smile spread wider across his face, dreamy and content.

            He shifted and rolled over, his movement waking Hannibal. Their eyes met in the sunlight, and Will saw straight into him. His eyes were as naked as the rest of him, without a single brick of the walls he normally had in the way.

            “Good morning, my angel of death.” Hannibal said. Will gave a soft laugh, bringing his hand up to brush Hannibal’s unkempt hair from his eyes.

            “I never knew you were so sentimental.”

            “No one does.”

            Will’s heart shined within him and he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on Hannibal’s lips. He pulled back only a few inches, and ran the backs of his bloody fingers over his cheek.

            “It’s a precious, rare thing, seeing you this way.”

            Hannibal smiled at him like an innocent child, and pressed a kiss to Will’s fingers.

            “Sadly, it does have to end. For now.” he said, moving to sit up. His back cracked and and he shifted, stretching his sinewy muscles in the sunlight. Will followed him, groaning as he felt the results of last night’s fucking in the bites on his neck, the scratches on his skin, the swelling in his ass.

            They stood, and for the first time Will saw the entirety of the room. Blood was everywhere. Sprayed on the wall beside the bed, with a void in the shape of Hannibal. Sprayed on the floor on the other side, with a void in the shape of Will. Soaked into the mattress, so much of it that there was still a wet puddle in the center. It had dripped over the sides in the night, leaving a straight line of little drips along the floor. It was smeared all over the wall across from the foot of the bed, two sets of nearly perfect handprints in it, making it abundantly clear what activity had been going on. The carpet was a smudged disaster.

            Will looked at it all and grinned as he pictured Jack standing there, not able to do what he did, not able to rewind it all and step into the minds of those who had created this beautiful work of art. No one would appreciate it properly, he thought, and that made him a little sad. It was too bad there wasn’t another Will Graham to come along and admire his work.

            Thinking about Jack, will walked over to the bed and dipped his hand into the wet puddle on the bed. Hannibal stood absolutely still, watching him with his head quirked to the side, in that way he did whenever he was waiting to see what Will would do.

            Walking over to the wall, Will smeared his finger around their handprints, tracing an outline around it in a huge, lopsided, bloody heart.

            Hannibal actually laughed.

            “I think they got the message.”

            Will stepped back to admire it.

            “You can never be sure with Jack. I wanted to be clear.”

            Hannibal actually shook his head at him.

            “Give him a _little_ credit. He’s a smart man. He just doesn’t appear so beside our brilliance.”

            They took a shower together in the master bath, the hot water stinging the scratches on Will’s skin, burning the tears on his anus, but soothing the ache in his shoulder from Dolarhyde’s stab wound. Hannibal scrubbed him down thoroughly, taking a long time to get all the dried blood off. Then Will scrubbed his back in return, the entire ordeal taking them the better part of an hour, until every fleck was gone, even from under their fingernails.

            They got dressed from the clothes in the closet, which was a bit difficult since the man was much smaller than they were. They settled on sweatpants and t-shirts, and Hannibal’s stomach growled with hunger.

            “I’d hate to ruin your artwork…”

            “Please, we have to eat. Take whatever you want for breakfast.”

            Hannibal took a fresh cut from the woman’s thigh and made the best eggs and pork Will had ever eaten.

 

            They left the pickup truck in the driveway, covered in their fingerprints. They waited until the business of the morning commute died down, until no more children were waiting for the school bus, until anyone who was working was gone for the day. Then they cut through backyards for a few blocks, until Will selected a car he liked, carrying with them only the hunting backpack, their new clothes, and his new favorite knife.

            Will meandered down county roads, avoiding main highways, and also not particularly caring where he was going, other than that it was generally west. The car had a sun roof and the day was beautiful, so he put it up, letting the wind blow through their hair as they drove. They passed a sign that welcomed them happily to Ohio.

            “Do tell, what are our plans for this evening?” Hannibal asked, enjoying the view of gentle rolling hills and crops swaying in the breeze.

            “I was thinking more urban. Perhaps an expensive penthouse.” he said. He turned to face Hannibal an grinned. “So you can have your choice of their wine collection for dinner.”

            Hannibal gave him a smile that was nothing short of licentious.

            “You are so thoughtful, Will.”

            He grinned, and they sped on towards Cleveland, Hannibal relaxing his head back as he found a classical radio station to listen to.

           

            Jack surveyed the bedroom with the deepest frown he’d ever worn on his tired face. The destruction was abhorrent. The mess was the worst he’d ever seen, and his guilt was even heavier. His gaze kept drifting slowly from the bed, to the wall, and then back to the bed, where the obvious theme of hearts glared at him in a message so clear he didn’t need Will to interpret it for him. Or rather, Will _was_ interpreting it for him, even still, except now he was mocking him with it.

            “This is my fault.” he said, his eyes glazing over as Price and Zeller worked the room.

            “They had sex here on the floor.” Price offered helpfully. Jack didn’t need to hear more. He turned his back on them and stepped out of the room silently, walking down the stairs and into the secondary crime scene in the kitchen. They hadn’t even bothered to wash the dishes.

            He turned away from that also, and headed for the front door, where Freddie Lounds stood just behind the police tape, in front of the crowd that had gathered, ready to hound him.

            He walked passed her, tuning her out, got into his car, and sat.

            There was no evidence that would help him. He already knew who the criminals were.

            And one of them was completely, entirely of his own making.

 

            Hannibal insisted they stop and get proper attire.

            “We’ll never get into a penthouse dressed like hobos.” he said.

            They parked in front of a tuxedo shop and tailor, and while Hannibal might have appeared to have kept his composure walking across the sidewalk in sweatpants, Will could see that internally he was practically running.

            The bell above the door chimed, and Hannibal surveyed the shop for other customers. Finding none, he smoothly turned the lock on the door, to keep anyone else from bothering them.

            The shopkeeper came out with a smile on his face, which turned quickly to dread when he saw them.

            “We’re in need of new suits, my good man.” Hannibal said, walking up to him. “Direly.”

            He lowered his eyes and they flashed darkly at him. Will walked up beside him and watched the poor man’s face turn completely white. He gave a comforting, almost shy kind of smile; putting on his best good-guy face. It came to him easily, the mask he’d worn for so many years, believing that it was his real face. It was working. The man’s attention immediately looked to Will, his eyes pleading.

            “It seems our fame has preceded us again.” Will said. “Such a shame; all we need is to be fitted and make a purchase. If only we weren’t recognized. Be treated like any other customers. Make a transaction, and then leave.”

            He molded his face to appear like a friendly warning, almost pleading, with the man to behave. He nodded slowly and forced a smile to his face, though his hands still shook.

            “I’m…I’m so sorry, but I don’t believe I know who you are.” he said. “Have…have you been in here before? Forgive me, if my memory has failed me. It’s not very good, in my old age, you know.”

            Will turned to Hannibal and made what looked like a pleading expression.

            “He doesn’t recognize us, Hannibal. He’s just a simple tailor.”

            The man nodded.

            “Yes, that’s right. Just a tailor. Did you need to be fitted? I have ex…excellent stock available, if you’re in a hurry.”

            Hannibal’s lips turned up in the slightest smile, with full composure, his expression as slick as oil.

            “That sounds lovely. Yes, as you can see, we are in dire need of new attire. Our luggage was…lost.” he said. The man nodded quickly, and hurried over towards the mirror, pulling a tape measure out of his pocket.

            Once he got started, the man, whose name was Ron, fell into the familiarity of his work and seemed to calm. Hannibal was abundantly polite, and Will let him take the lead, knowing next to nothing about items of clothing worth more than thirty dollars.

            “You know, Will, have you heard about this pair of serial killers on the news?” Hannibal asked as he stood perfectly still with his arms out, being measured. The tailor, to his credit, continued working without a pause.

            “I think I read something about them. The famous Hannibal Lecter, and some FBI agent.”

            “Do you have any idea how they choose their victims?” Hannibal asked. The tailor finished writing down his measurements and stood, frozen, petrified.

            “I hear Hannibal selects only those who are uncultured and rude, lacking in manners.” Will said. “Nothing at all like Ron. Ron is perfectly civilized and polite.”

            “Yes, I agree. Ron, you could teach the world a thing or two, about how to behave.”

            When they had been fitted and had selected their clothing (a three-piece suit for Hannibal and thankfully, a more modern two-piece for Will), Hannibal walked up to the register and removed a credit card from his wallet.

            “Oh, you don’t have to…” Ron stammered. “I mean, I feel terrible about your lost luggage. It’s on the house.”

            “No, no, I insist.” Hannibal said, sliding his credit card across the counter. “You’ve been absolutely wonderful, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

            Ron stared at the credit card like it was going to bite him.

            “You know,” he said. “It would be…terribly impolite…for me to accept your payment, considering the hardship you’ve been through. I would rather…not have a record…of your…embarrassment.”

            Hannibal locked eyes with Ron for a long moment, then slowly reached out his hand and picked his card up off the counter.

            “In that case, I do appreciate it. Your future customers will appreciate your generosity as well, I’m sure.”

            Hannibal turned, and Will followed behind him, both of them now dressed to the nines. He clicked open the lock and then paused with his hand on the door.

            “However, if you _were_ to spread rumors about our visit here,” Hannibal said, “It would be such a shame, for that…betrayal…to tarnish your future.”

            “Not…not a worry!” Ron stammered, and Hannibal made the tiniest, almost imperceptible grin as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

            When they were back in the car and two blocks away, Hannibal’s smile spread wider on his face.

            “You are hideously cruel, toying with the prey.”

            Will’s heart raced in his chest and he grinned.

            “As if you didn’t enjoy playing along.”

            Will stopped gently as the light in front of him turned red, his eyes darting from pedestrian to pedestrian as they crossed the street, reading their faces, feeling their emotions flicker through him. A family walked by, two young fathers, one pushing a stroller, the other with a toddler in his arms. For the briefest of moments, Will’s heart ached for a life he knew he’d never have.

            “What do your instincts tell you about our friend Ron?” Hannibal asked him. Will tore his eyes from the crowd to focus on the face of the life he’d chosen instead. The momentary regret vanished.

            “Oh, he won’t say a word. To anyone. Ever.” Will said, pulling forward as the stoplight turned green. “Ron is very trustworthy.”

            Hannibal nodded with satisfaction.

            “Good. I like him.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

They drove slowly through the nicest parts of the city, Hannibal meticulously eyeing the finer restaurants until he saw one he liked. He directed Will to park the car around the corner, and held his elbow out to him on the sidewalk. Will smiled and looked down at the ground for a quick second as he took Hannibal’s arm, his old shyness returning for just a flash as he blushed.

            “You look lovely this evening, my dear Will.” Hannibal said, the epitome of high society as he turned the corner and led Will to the entrance.

            They stopped at the maître-d and Hannibal explained that no, they did not have a reservation, they just flew in from Italy and were tired and worn-out and needed a good meal.

            “It’s only a Wednesday, surely there are tables available?” he said. His charm was a thick veneer, making his personality sparkle, the least threatening person in the room. The maître-d didn’t blink once at them, the possibility that these were the same two serial killers whose mug shots were splashed across the front of every newspaper not even crossing his subconscious.

            “Right this way, gentlemen.” he said, leading them to a table for two on the far side of the restaurant.

            “I thought you’d have liked to cook for us yourself tonight.” Will said as he perused the menu.

            “Are you disappointed that I am not?”

            Will shook his head, amazed that there were no prices on the menu at all. People so rich they didn’t care what it cost. Hannibal sure knew his way around high society.

            “Not at all. Tonight is your choice, from beginning to end.” he said, looking up to give Hannibal the most genuine smile he’d felt on his face in years. Possibly ever.

            “Will, I never knew you could be so romantic.”

            Will couldn’t help it, he blushed.

            “Neither did I. You bring out the worst in me.” he said. He saw Hannibal struggle not to laugh louder than a soft chuckle. It made him shine inside, to see the effect he had on him. To see happiness in his eyes. He felt that same happiness in himself, right down to his core.

            They ordered, Hannibal choosing the wine, of course, and chatted in a conversation more akin to the ones they were used to having, before. Except now everything was different. Instead of speaking to an image of Hannibal, Will was speaking to Hannibal himself; and instead of Will existing as an exhausted, tired shell of himself, he was whole, complete, and honest about who he was. Everything was perfect.

            Halfway through their meal, a couple walked by, a middle-aged, balding, sour looking man followed by his too thin and too wrinkled wife.

            “Fucking gays are invading America.” he muttered as they walked past their table, and while Hannibal didn’t move a millimeter, Will saw the darkness flash through his eyes anyway.

            “Walter, can you go _one_ evening without embarrassing me?” his wife snipped back as they sat down two tables away.

            “Waiter, do you think we could have another table?” Walter asked, his eyes darting over to Will and Hannibal’s table.

            Will reached across the table and clasped his fingers around Hannibal’s hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it, his eyes burning as they bore into Hannibal’s. Walter made a ‘tsk’ noise, the waiter ignored him, and Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand _ever_ so lightly.

            “I think we agree, then.” he said. Will let the tiniest grin prick at the corner of his lips.

            Hannibal raised his hand to summon the maître-d.

            “May I inquire of the lovely couple seated two tables from us? They look absolutely exhausted. I’d like to send them a bottle of your house Bordeaux. Perhaps it will cheer them.”

            When the wine arrived at their table and the maître-d explained who the wine was from, Walter literally spat out the bite of salad that was in his mouth. He glared angrily over at them, and Hannibal gave him a cheerful smile and tipped his hand in a wave.

            “Walter! This was a _nice gesture_!” Charlene scolded. She rose, throwing her napkin onto their table in disgust, and marched over to Will and Hannibal’s table.

            “Hello, gentlemen. Thank you, for the gift. I’m Charlene Duvois. Are you new in town? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Not that you’d stand out; you two blend in perfectly! I mean, you’re obviously from money. That much is clear. And you have class. Far more than the swine I married. Let me be the first to say ‘Welcome to Cleveland.’”

            Hannibal’s tight smile was so forced Will had to keep himself from laughing. Not knowing when to stop talking was probably higher on his list than blatant homophobia on the list of rude offenses he kept in his mind.

            Still, he reached out his hand to shake hers politely.

            “Lawrence.” he said. “And this is my husband, Will.”

            Will’s cheeks turned hot and his ears rang at the words. He almost completely forgot to take Mrs. Duvois’ hand when she extended it in greeting. There was no reason his heart should have been beating as fast as it was.

            “Please, would you like to join us?” Hannibal asked, scooting over.

            “I’d love to! Though your table is too small, why don’t you join us?” she asked, gesturing at the table for four they occupied.

            “We’d be delighted.”

            As the evening wore on, Hannibal kept pouring them more and more wine, and they both seemed to have no restraint when it came to drinking it. Walter started off the evening by glaring at them, but after three glasses even he couldn’t help laughing at the stories Hannibal told.

            “Walter, can you _imagine_?” Charlene said, snorting through her nose as she laughed boisterously, causing people at other tables to glare in her direction. “A masterpiece painting going missing because one of the researchers _ate_ it?”

            Walter rolled his eyes, swirling his wine in his glass a little too much, some of it sloshing over the side to spill on the table.

            “I hardly think that actually happened, dear.” he said. He leaned over towards Hannibal, his elbow slamming against the table, though he hardly seemed to notice. “Where was it you said you were curator of, again?”

            By the time the Duvois were ready to leave, they were old, long friends with Hannibal and his husband Will. When Hannibal asked if they would show them their home, Charlene _eagerly_ jumped at the offer, and even Walter seemed to be having a good enough time to go along with it. The four of them walked past the doorman of their building laughing and joking, and it took Walter a good three attempts to insert his key into the elevator to allow it to go to their floor.

            Their penthouse was beautiful. Two walls in the living room were made entirely of windows, with gorgeous stained glass artwork hanging in them. Will couldn’t wait to see them in the morning, when the sun rose. Expensive sculptures and vases were placed on pedestals and end tables, just enough to accent the room without cluttering it.

            Hannibal slipped off his jacket and hung it on the rack beside the door. He then stepped behind Will, his fingers brushing over his shoulders as he removed his jacket, hanging it for him. Their skin hadn’t even touched, and Will found himself blushing again, his emotions so heightened he felt like he was in high school.

            “I must ask, who does your interior decorating?” Hannibal said, his eyes drinking in the apartment with delight.

            “Oh, my _darling_ friend Shannon. Mrs. Houston. I will give you her number, dear. You will _definitely_ want to use her to decorate your new place.”

            She stumbled from her drunkenness, and yanked her shoes off, tossing them haphazardly towards the nearest wall.

            “Come, come see our bedroom! We have the most _lovely_ jacuzzi, Italian marble. We just had the master bath redone a few months ago.”

            They went to follow her, when Walter plopped himself down heavily on the couch.

            “You give the tour, dear, I’m too tired.” he said, already loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes. Hannibal and Will glanced at each other, and Hannibal turned and walked back towards the couch, sitting down near Walter. He let Will follow Mrs. Duvois into the bedroom, and Will knew that he wouldn’t make a move until Will did. Though this evening was a gift, this was still Will’s kill, and he knew Hannibal would _never_ be so rude as to murder out of turn.

            Charlene stumbled and fell, her ass landing on her bed. She laughed, loudly. Will let himself cringe. She was too drunk to notice.

            “In there.” she said, waving her hand towards the master bath. Will obliged her briefly, taking in the eloquent room, the jacuzzi the largest one he’d ever seen in his life. He smiled to himself and thought how nice it would be to try it out. His aching shoulder sure could use it.

            He turned back into the bedroom and Charlene was standing again. She stepped forward, trapping him in the doorway.

            “You and Lawrence are such _lovely_ people.” she said, reaching up to loosen Will’s tie. He stood like marble himself, his skin growing cold as her fingers brushed against his neck. He slipped his hand into his pocket and clasped his fingers around his knife. He didn’t want to kill her in the bedroom, he wanted her seated at the table. He would endure her, knowing she wasn’t going to last much longer.

            “But you’re not _really_ gay, are you?” she asked, fiddling with his collar, reaching down to undo the top button of his shirt. “I mean, you would still appreciate the advances of a woman, wouldn’t you?”

            He remained absolutely motionless.

            She squinted, and then pulled the collar away from his neck.

            “Oh my God, you have hickies.” she said, giggling. Her fingers traced along his neck and he grit his teeth, fighting the urge to growl. “Is that…is that a _bite_ mark?” she asked, and Will had had enough.

            His free hand flew up and clasped her wrist painfully hard. Her expression changed slowly, as the situation dawned upon her inebriated brain.

            “Yes, it is.” he said, walking forward, pushing her backward, until he was finally out of the doorway. “It’s from my _husband_ , to whom I am _married_.” he said, the words feeling truer than they should, considering they weren’t true at all. “Even if I _were_ inclined towards women, I would never betray our marriage.”

            His jaw was set, his eyes burned with fury. Her face changed to one of fear and she tried to back away.

            “Let go of me!”

            She swatted at him with her other hand, and he grabbed that wrist as well, hard enough that he was certain she would bruise.

            “We’re going to sit at the table.” he said, shoving her into the hall. She was easy to manipulate where he wanted, her body hardly weighing anything and her drunkenness taking away her coordination. He forced her to sit at the dining room table and she squirmed. He let go of her wrists and placed his hands firmly down on her shoulders, holding her in place.

            Hannibal was already lifting Walter’s passed-out form from the couch, carrying him with the ease of a man who had spent his life keeping his body muscular and strong. He sat Walter down across from Charlene and then slapped his cheek several times in quick succession, until he roused and lifted his head.

            “Charlene? Why are we sitting for dinner? We already ate, you bimbo…”

            Lifting his gaze away from them, Will’s eyes rose to meet Hannibal’s. His hand slipped into his pocket and in a flash, his knife was at her throat.

            She suddenly appeared much more sober, her body going rigid with fear.

            “What are you doing!?” she cried.

            “She tried to seduce me, Hannibal.” Will said, never once taking his eyes from Hannibal’s gaze.

            “I heard the entire exchange. Such boorish behavior. Absolutely unforgivable.” he said, his voice still completely calm, not a hint of change to his tone.

            Walter finally realized the situation and went to rise from his seat to reach for the knife in Will’s hand.

            “Not a wise move.” Hannibal said, shoving him back down roughly in his seat by his shoulders. “Right now, he intends to kill her quickly. She’ll hardly feel a thing. But if you make trouble for him, his plans might change.”

            Will felt a fire spring to life in the depths of his gut. It took him a moment to place the source of it. Hannibal’s voice was full of _pride_ , he was _bragging_ to them about Will’s ferocity.

            “Who _are_ you?” Walter shouted.

            “My my, aren’t we dense.” Hannibal said. “Can you believe they still don’t recognize us, my dear Will?”

            Will’s cheek twitched in disdain.

            “With a name like Hannibal, you’d think it would click.” he said, and then he _finally_ saw the fear on Charlene’s face as she made the connection.

            “Oh. My. God. You two are _serial killers_?!”

            The tiniest smirk appeared at the corner of Hannibal’s lips.

            “Yes, and _you_ two have been given the honor, of being chosen to be elevated by Will’s beautiful design. Now say goodbye.”

            They both stared at each other in terror, but unlike the last couple they’d killed, they did not reach for each other. Instead, Will could see the anger, the _blame_ in Walter’s face as he accused his wife of allowing these people into their home, of _inviting_ them in.

            “Walter…” she began, and it was her last word, as he sliced the blade cleanly and deeply through her throat. Walter screamed as her blood sprayed across him, and Will calmly passed the knife to Hannibal, who took it reverently, their eyes locked on each other.

            He slowly cut through Walter’s throat, until his scream became a gurgle, and then nothing. Hannibal closed his eyes, savoring that he had _finally_ silenced this man, and Will watched every minute expression of pleasure that traveled across his features.

            The blood ran down their victim’s chests, pooling on the table and dripping into their laps, then onto the floor. Neither man moved for a long time, their eyes locked together, their bodies and faces covered in sprays of blood.

            When the blood had calmed from a fountain to a river, Will moved, lifting Charlene’s hands to rest on the table. He walked into the kitchen and removed two glasses from the wine rack, placing one in her hand. He then walked slowly around the table, eyeing his work, and Hannibal stepped back to give him room. He placed Walter’s elbow on the table, propping his head up on his hand, making him appear absolutely bored. He then walked back around to Charlene and tipped her head back so that her face pointed at the ceiling, and pried her mouth open. He reached in and pulled out her tongue, slicing it out with his knife. He tossed it in her empty wine glass.

            Inspired, he held the glass under the river of blood that ran down her chest, until it was half-full, her tongue floating in the middle of it, and placed it back in her hand. Walter’s he left empty, and rubbed his fingers on his chin, surveying his work.

            “Oh, I know.” he said. He walked back around to Walter and knelt under the table, unzipping his pants. The body started to slip, and then he felt it steady, as Hannibal held it in place for him. He pulled out Walter’s dick and sliced it off, rose, and held it to Walter’s mouth. Hannibal opened his mouth for him, and Will smirked as he stuffed it in, the perfect penance for the sin that had made him their prey in the first place.

            They stepped back, admiring Will’s work, the glow in Will’s cheeks mirroring the shine in Hannibal’s eyes.

            “A masterpiece.” Hannibal said, lifting his hand to stroke it through Will’s curls, smearing more blood into it. “I couldn’t have thought of something more just.”

            Will tipped his head to the side, resting it on Hannibal’s shoulder.

            “I think you have a biased opinion.” Will said, and he felt Hannibal smirk as he pressed his lips into his hair.

            “You may be right.” he said. He dragged his fingers down Will’s neck, sending shivers up his spine. He traced the shape of the bite mark on Will’s neck, toying with it, making the hairs rise on Will’s skin.

            “Mmmmmmm…” Will said, turning his body into Hannibal, pressing their chests together as Hannibal wrapped his arms around him. He leaned up and kissed him, long, slow, gentle. They moved their lips languidly, tongues gliding along each other’s teeth, peeking into each other’s mouths. Will felt Hannibal’s hand stroke through his hair, his fingers gently twirling the curls around themselves before letting go.

            Will’s hands moved up to clasp Hannibal’s cheeks, and he felt his wedding ring press against his face. Will jerked back, staring at his left hand with offense.

            Angrily, he ripped it off, the metal sliding easily over his bloody finger. He then held it in his palm and stared at it.

            “What are you thinking, Will?” Hannibal asked, and in his voice, Will heard an old tone, one he hadn’t heard in a very, very long time. Uncertainty. Fear. Fear that Will would reject him.

            “The worst decision I ever made,” he began, “And the biggest mistake of my life, are the actions I took on the day you killed Abigail.” he said. “And every decision I made after that, up until the day I set you free.”

            Hannibal’s hand was firm on Will’s chin as he tipped his face up to look into his eyes.

            “The day you set _us_ free, Will.”

            A bittersweet smile crossed Will’s face.

            “If only I had let you free me sooner.”

            Their lips came together again, and Will dropped the ring. It clattered to the floor and rolled along in the blood, coming to settle at Walter’s feet, forgotten. Hannibal’s lips left Will’s and traveled down his neck, gently kissing over the dark bruises the beast had left there the night before. Will moaned into his touch, his hands clasping at Hannibal’s shirt.

            “Make love to me, Hannibal.” he said, and he felt Hannibal’s body shiver at his words. His lips came back up to Will’s ear and brushed over it as he spoke.

            “My dear Will, I ravished you too much last night to do it again so soon.”

            Will’s eyes closed as he remembered last night in flashes of brilliance and yearning. He also knew Hannibal was right. He was still swollen and torn from last night.

            He pulled his face back to look into Hannibal’s eyes.

            “Please, do _something_ , I need to be close to you.”

            Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will’s waist and pulled him towards the couch. He guided Will to lay on his back, tossing the throw pillows to the floor, getting handprints of blood all over them. Will lay obediently, expectantly, his eyes never leaving Hannibal as he came to lay over him, one hand on the couch beside Will’s head, the other brushing his fingertips along Will’s cheek before he leaned down to kiss him.

            His kisses were slow and wet, his tongue tracing over Will’s lips, then along his jaw, then down his neck. He licked the blood into his mouth, both groaning from pleasure. Hannibal rested his body on top of Will, the heat and weight of him causing Will to shiver with pleasure.

            He ground down, rubbing their erections together through their brand new, and now blood-stained slacks. Hannibal’s lips moved down to Will’s throat, his tongue tracing over his collar bone. Will tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering closed as his hips bucked up into Hannibal.

            His arms wrapped tightly around Hannibal’s back, his hands sliding over him, feeling him, touching him, keeping him close.

            “Hannibal.” he whispered.

            “Mmm?” Hannibal replied, his mouth busy sucking bruises into Will’s neck, circling around the swollen bite marks.

            Will didn’t have any words to describe the depth of emotions within him. Each time he tried to come up with a phrase, it fell entirely short. Instead, he pushed his hands up inside the bottom of Hannibal’s shirt, sliding his palms over his warm skin, touching him, bringing him close.

            Their intimacy was so different from how it had been last night it was hard to believe it was the same two people. Will’s fingers gently started to undo the buttons on Hannibal’s shirt, one by one, the blood already drying on his hands to leave little flecks of it on the white cloth. Once he had them all undone Hannibal sat up, straddling Will with his legs, leaving his shirt on but open, and then moving his own fingers across Will’s buttons.

            A smirk tugged at the corner of Hannibal’s lips, and Will cocked his head to the side in a question.

            “I do enjoy seeing you dressed so finely, Will.” he said, and Will smiled up at him, his eyes darting over Hannibal’s naked chest, smudges of blood across his skin.

            “I think I enjoy seeing you undressed completely.”

            Their eyes met, and when Hannibal had Will’s shirt fully unbuttoned and Will went to sit up to remove it, Hannibal spread his palm over his chest and pressed him back into the couch.

            “Last night, we did this your way.” he said. “Now, let’s do mine.”

            Will smiled up at him, the primal beasts they had been still burning behind his eyes, but his love and happiness at seeing Hannibal’s delight overshined it.

            Hannibal’s fingers moved slowly, reverently, tickling down Will’s chest, trailing through the fine hairs on this stomach. When he reached the top of his pants, he kept going, undoing his belt buckle, then the button and zipper on Will’s slacks.

            Hannibal gave him a mischievous expression as he slipped his fingers into Will’s underwear, pushing them down to pull out his cock. Will’s eyelids fluttered just from the brush of Hannibal’s touch. He wrapped his warm hand around Will’s already fully hard erection and gave him a few gentle tugs.

            Will moaned softly, his arms falling useless at his sides, as Hannibal sat just beyond his reach. All he could do was look up into Hannibal’s face with dreamy eyes and get lost in the sensation. His head fell back to the couch, but then he tilted his chin, desperate to see Hannibal’s face.

            Hannibal’s smirk grew wider and he moved, leaning over Will once again, resting his knees on either side of Will’s hips. His face was inches from Will’s as he let go of his cock and reached up to undo his own pants.

            Their eyes didn’t leave each other. Will felt Hannibal tugging himself out of his silk drawers, and inhaled sharply when the warmth of his cock slid against his own. Hannibal smiled again and leaned down to press a light kiss to Will’s lips, before straightening the arm he had beside Will’s head again to regard his entire expression. He wrapped his hand around their dicks together, enveloping Will in the warmth radiating off of him and the strength of his fingers.

            He stroked, and Will gasped, his head falling back to the couch again. Hannibal set a slow pace at first, and it wasn’t long at all before Will was humping up into his hand, moving his hips in time, his fingers clenching at the cloth of the couch. His eyes alternated between fluttering open and falling closed, little gasps of pleasure escaping his mouth in time with the rhythm Hannibal set.

            Hannibal’s hair swung back and forth along with the rest of him, and Will brought a hand up to brush it back, leaving his hand beside his forehead, rubbing his fingers against his scalp. Their eyes met again, and Hannibal leaned down to kiss Will, his lips soft but hungry.

            “I never imagined I would be so lucky.” he whispered, and Will slid his hand around to the back of his head to pull him into another kiss, his heart shining within him, glowing like he’d never known except when he was with Hannibal.

            The pleasure in his blood moved more and more to his groin, singing up his dick. Pre-cum leaked from both of them, slicking Hannibal’s palm, making the combination between friction and pressure even more pleasurable. Will’s entire body tensed, and he held his breath, his orgasm building slower and more intensely than it had last night, if that was even possible. He reached both his arms around Hannibal’s back to grab his shoulders, his nails digging into his shirt as he came.

            “Hanni _bal!_ ” he screamed, aware of only his lover and himself, nothing else in the entire universe as pleasure racked through every nerve. Will panted, heavy and hard, clutching Hannibal to himself, their bare chests hot and sweaty against each other. Hannibal stopped moving, still clutching his dick to Will’s, and let Will move as he pleased, his body shaking.

            He collapsed to the couch, and Hannibal released him, pumping only his own cock now, hard and fast. Will’s cum covered his hand and slicked down his dick, his eyes locking onto Will’s face as he continued to brush Hannibal’s hair from his eyes.

            With a heavy grunt, Hannibal shuddered, closing his eyes as his pleasure shot all over Will’s stomach, adding to the mess. He immediately leaned his face into Will’s palm, leaning down to bring their lips together. They kissed hungrily, feverishly, each trying to get as much flavor of the other as possible. Then Hannibal collapsed on top of Will and they lay, Will gently stroking his fingers through Hannibal’s hair as their breathing slowly came back to normal.

            “I never imagined my life could be so fulfilling.” Will finally replied. Hannibal raised his head to look into his face. “Before now, before this, I’d resigned myself to always being in pain. In torment. Never finding happiness.” he said. He watched Hannibal’s’ eyes grow misty. Watched the emotions play through his gaze.

            “Are you saying you’re happy?” he finally asked. A wide smile spread across Will’s face.

            “Yes.”

            Hannibal kissed him again, and again, until his joints started to hurt from being cramped on the couch, and they both slowly rose to their feet. Will looked down at his stomach, covered in cum and blood, and then looked up at the scene at the table.

            He walked over to Walter’s wine glass and picked it up. Twirling the stem between his fingers and thumb, he admired it in the light before bringing it to his stomach and scraping the results of he and Hannibal’s love into the glass. The white ejaculate oozed down the side of the glass and Will watched it for a moment, until he felt Hannibal’s strong hand come to rest on his shoulder.

            “A fine finishing touch.” he said, kissing the side of Will’s cheek. Will turned to give him a peck on the lips.

            “Now I want to try out the jacuzzi.” he said. He saw Hannibal’s eyes widen with delight.

            “Tonight is a night for romance, then.” he said, extending his elbow. Will slid his arm around it and they walked off down the hall together, feeling entirely different from last night, but no less wonderful.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

            Jack’s eyes shifted over the scene before him with a glazed, exhausted film over them. He had seen it all, and yet he had never seen this. Nothing these two did would ever be a repeat of something else- even when Hannibal was playing a copycat, he still needed to leave his own mark. His own signature. For Will to find.

            For Will.

            He slowly sank into a chair, resting his forehead on the heel of his palm. Everything the Chesapeake Ripper had done in the past five years had been _for Will_. Now that he _had_ Will, whatever profile they’d made up wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on. Even the most predictable serial killers became nearly impossible to categorize once they were a team- and there was already _no_ precedent for this.

            Yes, there were examples of serial killer lovers, in the past, and of teams of two, of best friends even, going on sprees. And that was what this was…a _spree_ , the two of them so wrapped up in enjoying their killing that they did it as often as possible and wouldn’t stop until caught or killed.

            Or rather, that was how it _normally_ went.

            Jack rested his elbows on his thighs and folded his gloved hands together to rest his chin upon them. He knew, he _knew_ , that this spree could end in a third way. With them doing what no other spree killers did- _stopping_. Right now, they were in their honeymoon phase. Newlyweds, so enamored with each other and their new life that they were throwing caution to the wind, willing to take risks they normally wouldn’t- or that _Hannibal_ normally wouldn’t.

            Jack had no idea what kind of killer Will was. But he was beginning to.

            The couple seated at the table mocked him; mocked Alana, mocked the FBI, as well as mocking the couple that they had taken offense to. The message was, even to Jack, painfully clear: those who threatened Will and Hannibal’s love, even in the slightest way, would pay. Dearly.

            “Jack?” Price said, standing in front of him patiently until Jack came back to the present, and his eyes focused.

            “Yes?”

            “We found this, sir.” he said, holding up his palm. In it sat a gold wedding band. “It doesn’t belong to the victims; they’re both wearing theirs.”

            Jack didn’t know why it turned his blood cold. It was, of all the declarations they’d made, the simplest and least grotesque of all. And yet somehow, it was the most final. The nail in the coffin that Will did not intend to go back.

            “It’s Will’s.” he said. “From his marriage to Molly.”

            Price pulled his palm back and stared at the ring, his brow wrinkled with thought.

            “I guess the Will we knew is gone, then.” he said.

            Jack’s eyes glazed over and he seemed to stare at nothing. He didn’t want to believe that the Will he knew was completely gone. He _couldn’t_ believe it. He had to still be in there, somewhere. He just…needed to be reminded of who he was.

 

            Will sang as he blasted the radio, racing along the highway with the windows down, letting the gorgeous Indiana air blow through he and Hannibal’s hair. It was a beautiful day; shining sun, mild weather, nothing but farms for miles and miles.

            “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you sing before.” Hannibal said. Will grinned.

            “That’s because I haven’t. Not in years and years, Hannibal. Not since I was a child, I think.”

            Hannibal let his smile appear on his face, his real smile, the genuine one.

            “I’ve never seen you smile so much.” Will said.

            “When I look at you, I can’t help it.” he replied. Will snorted and laughed.

            “God, we’re like high school teenagers.”

            Hannibal only grinned further, leaning back in his seat to enjoy the scenery and the beautiful air and Will’s beautiful voice, even if he couldn’t stand the rock music.

           

            Chicago greeted them with brilliant lights, both from high culture and gaudy billboards. Will drove through all different parts of the city, from poor projects to rich skyscrapers, passing every kind of business in between. They were dressed in Walter’s suits, which must not have fit him properly because they were able to find ones that fit them rather well. Will darted his eyes from street corner to street corner, drinking in the sights, the people, the potential.

            “What are you thinking, my dear Will?” Hannibal asked, and Will almost laughed.

            “Am I still that much of a mystery to you?” he asked. He could feel Hannibal’s smile on him, even without looking. His empathy was so attuned to Hannibal now that it hardly bothered him. It pushed out almost everyone else, leaving no room for distraction. Will adored it.

            “Forgive me, but this new version of you is barely a month old. I doubt anyone could possibly know you fully at this point, not even yourself.”

            Will smiled again.

            “Right as always, Dr. Lecter.” he said. “I can’t make up my mind.”

            “What are you looking for?”

            He shrugged.

            “Inspiration.”

            They cruised along the streets in the Duvois’ Bentley, catching looks from people in middle-class neighborhoods and glares from folks in the poorer ones. Will circled back and wound up in the high-class neighborhoods again, when he saw Hannibal’s head jerk to the right for a quick moment, and then straighten forward again.

            “What?”

            “Nothing, dear Will. We’ll have plenty of time to accommodate my tastes once we are settled.”

            Will gave him a Look.

            “Are we still keeping secrets from each other?”

            Hannibal sighed.

            “I merely saw that there appears to be a show at the Lyric Opera House tonight.”

            Will immediately made a U-turn and headed back the way they’d come.

            “Will…”

            “Why do you think I would deny you this?” he asked.

            “This isn’t part of our plan. We could be caught.”

            Will’s lip gave a small uptick at the corner as he glanced at Hannibal.

            “I promise you, Hannibal, Jack is not looking for us in the Chicago Opera House.”

            Hannibal snorted and appeared a bit offended.

            “Well, he should be.”

            Will laughed then, and reached his hand over to rest on Hannibal’s as he saw a sign for valet parking, and turned into the garage. He paused at the gate, the valet coming around to his window. Will turned to Hannibal and placed his hand over his.

            “Hannibal, take me to the opera.” he said.

            Hannibal’s fingers quickly entwined in the front of Will’s shirt, pulling him in roughly for a quick but deep kiss. They heard the soft tap of the valet’s knuckles on the window and parted, a smile on both their lips.

            They walked the two blocks back to the opera house arm-in-arm, catching curious glances from a few folks, but nothing that seemed to be recognition. When they reached the entrance, Will wondered how they were going to get in, when Hannibal pulled out some kind of permanent membership card.

            They were waved in with a smile and guided to their seats without fuss.

            “Why am I surprised?” Will asked, whispering in Hannibal’s ear as they settled into their seats.

            “You really shouldn’t be.” Hannibal replied, a tiny smirk hinting at the corners of his lips. “You’re not worried that they’ll call Jack, since they saw your name?”

            “I carefully kept my thumb over that part of the card.” he said. “And we are dressed well enough not to provoke questions.”

            Will raised an eyebrow and settled back into his seat.

            “The perks of high society, Will. It is rude to ask questions, and the staff at the Lyric Opera have manners.”

            Hannibal smiled softly and placed his hand over the back of Will’s.

            Will stilled, feeling the warmth of Hannibal’s palm over his hand. Hannibal leaned over to place a soft kiss against Will’s cheek, on his scar. It simultaneously caused his skin to ache and feel refreshed, and he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

            Then the lights dimmed, and they fell silent as they waited for the opera to begin.

           

            Will had never before seen an opera. Or any live theater, for that matter. For that reason alone he found it interesting, even though he couldn’t completely follow along with what was happening. Even more endearing to him, however, was Hannibal’s face. Eyes closed, head perfectly poised, body absolutely motionless as an expression of pure bliss settled on him. The only motion he allowed himself was to now and then squeeze Will’s hand gently, and Will squeezed back, telling Hannibal that yes, he was enjoying himself.

            Hannibal’s face looked more serene than Will had ever seen it. He knew it was only partially because of the opera. He knew it was mostly because he was there. A slow, bright glow burned within him as he felt emotions he could only describe as “in love”. Though the words hardly did it justice. He was enraptured. Taken.

            The opera ended, and Hannibal clapped enthusiastically.

            “A brilliant performance.” he said, and there was only truth in his voice. He turned to Will and allowed a smile to spread across his lips.

            “Did you enjoy yourself, Will?”

            Will returned the smile, getting used to smiling so much; wondering how he’d ever lived life without doing so before.

            “More than I even thought I would.” he said. Hannibal beamed.

            They walked out of the theater arm-in-arm, strolling along the sidewalk, allowing other theater-goes to rush past them. Will looked up at the tall buildings around them, taking in the scene of Chicago, admiring how different from Baltimore it was.

            “I’ve seen so little of the world.” he said. Hannibal turned to speak softly in his ear as they walked.

            “I will change that for you, Will. I will show you everything. Everywhere.”

            Will smiled softly, and felt Hannibal press his lips to the side of his forehead. He felt the warmth slide through his skin and ignite his stomach.

            “I’m feeling very romantic tonight.” he said.

            “Another civilized kill, then?”

            Will wanted to laugh at the delight in Hannibal’s’ voice. At how he no longer had to hide his true desires. Not one of them.

            “I would love that. But I really would rather eat _your_ cooking tonight.”

            He thought Hannibal would pass out from joy.

            “I will select only the finest meat for you, my darling Will.” he said.

 

            Hannibal selected the finest meat indeed. Margaret Chaney, an older socialite, perhaps ten years Hannibal’s senior, sat cheerfully across from them as she bragged about the accomplishments of her son.

            “I am _delighted_ to hear of Oxford’s interest in allowing admittance of Julian.” she said, bringing them tea and setting the tray down on her coffee table. All her staff had gone home for the night, she explained. “After you denied him the first time, well, we sent a most _generous_ donation and had hoped it would bring a change of heart.”

            Hannibal watched with criticism as she stirred sugar into his cup without asking him if he’d wanted any. He’d already selected her for her fat-to-muscle ratio, Will knew, and was now looking for any excuse. Will leaned over to whisper in his ear.

            “You don’t need an excuse, Hannibal. Because you want to is enough.”

            He watched with satisfaction as a blush bloomed over Hannibal’s cheeks. Will grinned and watched him rise, buttoning his suit jacket as he did so.

            “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Chaney. I must use the facilities.” he said.

            “Of course, it’s right down that way.” she said, gesturing, her eyes falling back to Will.

            “Now do tell, which donation was it that finally changed your minds?” she asked him, as Hannibal wandered into the kitchen. Will heard the faintest scraping sound as he removed a knife from its block.

            “Was it the ten thousand from last year, designated for the tennis courts, or was it the twenty thousand for the library renovations?”

            Hannibal walked around to stand behind her armchair. Will raised an eyebrow as he saw his complete nakedness, having left every shred of clothing in the kitchen. He poised himself, one hand ready to hold her steady, the other tightening its grip on the handle of the beautiful, solid-steel knife. He looked up to Will and gestured with his eyes for him to get up. Will smiled. Hannibal didn’t want any mess to get on him.

            He rose, and her gaze followed him, still completely oblivious to Hannibal behind her. He placed his left hand under her chin and firmly lifted it, striking the blade quickly and deeply across her neck. The blood sprayed outward, covering the tea tray and splattering over the couch where Will had been sitting. She didn’t have time to scream, or to be afraid. He held her still for the ten seconds or so it took her to grow limp, and he let go. Hannibal did not want this meat tainted.

            “I shall require at least two hours to prepare the meal I have in mind.” he said, his body covered in her blood, dripping down the hairs of his chest. Heat rushed to Will’s cheeks and down to his groin.

            “I’ll…go relax in the bedroom, then.” he said, his voice taught, and he saw the smile prick at the corner of Hannibal’s lips.

            “My apologies for teasing you, Will.” he said. “But it was the only way I could keep my suit presentable for dinner.”

 

            Will first spent his time sprucing up, or at least the best he could in an old woman’s apartment. Thankfully she kept some shaving supplies around for her son; he found some unopened razors in the cabinet and got to work ridding himself of his scruff and neatening up his beard. He then showered, still wincing as his ass still stung from the soap. It would be at least a week, before he was fully healed down there. He still couldn’t bring himself to regret that night.

            He closed his eyes and remembered it, remembered the golden light rising within him when he sliced the woman’s throat, his eyes locked onto Hannibal’s. Remembered Hannibal strangling the man with his hands, his attention never leaving Will. Remembered Hannibal taking him, pounding into him, snarling, two beasts in the night, whole and real.

            He hadn’t even realized he was palming himself until his dick grew enough to brush against the chilly tiles of the shower wall. He forced himself to remove his hand, and let the hot water run down over his head, pouring from his curls. He wasn’t going to waste his energy jacking off. Tonight was going to be special, and he knew it. The way Hannibal had been looking at him at the opera was so…different.

            Will shut off the water and toweled himself dry, then threw on Mrs. Chaney’s bathrobe and settled onto her bed. He flicked on the TV, surfing through the channels, pausing when he saw the evening news.

            There he and Hannibal were, still in their mug shots, hardly looking like themselves at all. Except now Will’s face was altered; an attempt at his scar, probably from eyewitness accounts, draw onto his cheek.

            He snorted and lifted his fingers up to his face. It was hardly accurate, though it was still a pretty distinguishing mark. The fact that it took nothing more than some nice suits and manners to hide from people who they were was amusing to him.

            He was starting to see why Hannibal had _so_ much fun playing with people.

            He settled on a documentary about wolves, finding himself missing his dogs. That was the only thing he missed, he realized. Not Molly. Not Walter. They were better off without him. Certainly not Jack, or Alana. In fact what he felt towards those two was more anger, than anything. Anger at Jack, for using him. Anger at Alana, for the way she’d treated Hannibal when he was locked up, for allowing Chilton to use him, and Will had already made Chilton feel his wrath…

            “Will.”

            Will snapped out of his thoughts and sat up, trying to hide the haunted look he’d had in his eyes, then realized there was no point.

            “Get dressed, Will. Dinner is served.”

 

            As prepared as Will thought he was for the feast Hannibal would prepare, he still paused when he saw the beautiful array on the dining table.

            “Lomo Saltado.” Hannibal said, pulling out a chair on the side of the table for Will to sit. His eyes wandered over the meal as he felt Hannibal push the chair under him and watched him walk gracefully around to the chair opposite. The meal was unmistakable. He recognized it from the strips of meat, onions, and vegetables all flavored with ginger sauce, to the rice beside it. The meal Hannibal had made when Will had first brought him human meat, implying it was Freddie Lounds.

            “Our first meal together.” Will said, his eyes tearing up a bit both from the sentimentality, and also the guilt of his deception.

            “It was.” Hannibal said, holding up his wine glass. Will lifted his as well.

            “To no more deceits between us, Will.”

            Will looked directly into Hannibal’s eyes and was overcome by his forgiveness. How Will had ever thought he belonged in any other life beside this completely escaped him.

            “To no more secrets, ever again.” he said. They clinked their glasses, and Will found his heart glowing brighter with every bite. The last time they had eaten this meal, he was an infant, not even aware that he was starting his Becoming. Now he was fully grown, hatched from his chrysalis, and all the torment that had plagued him was gone.

            “This is delicious, as always, Hannibal.” he said. “Not a hint of acidity in the meat.”

            “She didn’t have time to feel any fear.” he said, smiling and taking a sip of his wine.

            “You’ve taught me well.” Will said, and Hannibal placed his glass down, thoughtful.

            “I have taught you many things.” he said. “Though I hope my influence hasn’t erased who you truly are.”

            Will smiled as he savored another bite of the meal on his tongue, enjoying just how tender and juicy the meat was.

            “Hardly.” he said, opening his eyes to gaze into Hannibal’s. “While you have certainly influenced me, you have hardly erased me, Hannibal. I enjoy killing. I always have, and I’ve always known it. I would have come to the realization eventually; you merely allowed me to realize myself much sooner.”

            He saw Hannibal’s eyes shining with delight.

            “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were just telling me things I want to hear, Will.”

            Will’s lips upticked at the corner of his mouth.

            “And what would I have to gain from that?”

            Hannibal lowered his gaze, his eyelids closing a bit, and he gave Will a very suggestive look.

            “My affections, of course.”

            “But I already have those.” Will retorted, bringing the next bite of meat to his lips and making a show of closing them around it, pulling it slowly from the prongs of the fork with his teeth.

            “Indeed, you do.” Hannibal replied, and it was all Will could do to keep himself under control, calm enough to enjoy the meal and not rush things, not leap across the table to crush his lips to Hannibal’s.

            They didn’t clean up the meal at Will’s insistence. It grated against Hannibal’s entire nature, and he made it known that he didn’t like it.

            “We need to leave mountains of evidence. That’s the plan.” Will said.

            “But to not clean the _dishes_ …”

            “No one is going to be cooking in this kitchen again for quite some time, and certainly not with these dishes. They’re going to go into evidence and never see the light of day again.”

            “That isn’t the _point_ , Will. Etiquette…”

            “We’re on the run, we have to compromise some things. Not forever. Just for now.”

            Hannibal’s eyes met his and they were hard, angry. But they softened quickly, and Hannibal tilted his head to the side, regarding Will with thoughtfulness.

            “You want Jack to know that you have sat at table with me. Willingly. Knowing what I serve.”

            Will felt the heat rise to his cheeks, felt the warmth spread over his body.

            “Yes.”

            Hannibal’s arms were around him in an instant, his lips crashing into Will’s, devouring him. Will’s hands came up to frame Hannibal’s face, to pull him closer, soft moans bubbling up from his throat as he gasped for breath.

            They stumbled down the hall, not pausing in their kisses to the bedroom, where Hannibal pushed Will onto his back. He slid up the bed, kicking off his shoes, and Hannibal quickly loosened his tie and tossed it to the floor. He was back on top of Will before the heat could leave them, pressing his body over him, sucking his lips into his mouth.

            Will groaned, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s back, pulling him close. He ground his hips up, rubbing their growing erections together. Hannibal’s fingers snaked into Will’s hair and tangled in it, tightening. He pulled Will’s head to the side roughly, and Will gave a soft gasp of pleasure as Hannibal’s mouth sucked down his neck. He brought his hand up to stroke through his lover’s pin-straight hair, feeling how soft it was, how warm he was.

            Hannibal’s tongue slid along Will’s collarbone and he tilted his own head back further, bearing himself. Hannibal’s hands left his hair and came to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them deftly and gracefully. He yanked it open, revealing Will’s bare chest, and continued his kisses down, grazing his tongue over Will’s left nipple.

            His voice caught in his throat and all he could do was tangle his fingers more in Hannibal’s hair. He had never felt so _wanted_ , before. So appreciated. So admired.

            “No one has ever made me feel close to what I do with you.” he whispered, knowing the words did nothing to convey the depth of what he felt. Hannibal’s only response was to tighten his teeth around Will’s nipple, making him yelp and squirm and writhe. His dick was now incredibly hard and he could feel the wetness starting to soak through his trousers from the pre-cum.

            Hannibal’s sensual lips dragged lower, his tongue lavishing over Will’s stomach, as if he were the main course and Mrs. Chaney was only the appetizer. He sucked Will’s skin hard into his mouth, leaving deep bruises and puddles of drool across his skin in a line just below his scar.

            Hannibal’s fingers moved up Will’s thigh, sliding closer to where he wanted, teasing him, making him aware of his own panting and aching need. When Hannibal’s palm finally pressed against his erection, Will keened, as if he’d never been touched there before. He heard Hannibal give a soft grunt of pleasure into his stomach, continuing to devour his skin, leaving dark, red welts to remind Will for days that his mouth had been there.

            Hannibal’s fingers moved quickly to unfasten Will’s belt and fly. His hands pulled his slacks and underwear down to his knees in one swift motion and before Will could think, Hannibal’s mouth was on the tip of his swollen cock.

            “Uuughhhnnfff!!!” Will cried, his hands flying to tangle in Hannibal’s hair, his eyes squeezing shut. Hannibal’s tongue swirled around his tip, lapping at it, drinking up his pre-cum. The heat of his mouth and lips and breath was fire on Will’s skin, the muscles in his arms pulled taught from how roughly he was holding Hannibal’s hair. He pushed his head down further, earning a surprised grunt from Hannibal, who went.

            He eagerly sucked Will into his mouth. Desperate and hot, as if he had not just had sex for two nights in a row, Will thrust his hips up into him, holding his head in place tightly with his hair. He hadn’t meant to get this rough, but he hadn’t been _prepared_ for how good it would feel to have Hannibal’s mouth on him. He sucked Will into him like he was a divine meal, lavishing his tongue and lips on him with a hunger that would never be sated. Eagerly, he sucked Will fully into his mouth, until Will felt his dick hit the _back of his throat_ , a sensation Will had never experienced in his life.

            He cried out from pleasure, heat and suction surrounding his sensitive cock, driving his hips up into his lover. Will’s knuckles were white from clasping Hannibal’s hair and he knew he was going to cum. Sweating, panting, he tried to hold back, not wanting this night to be over so quickly; but Hannibal’s tongue was relentless. He drew pleasure out of Will without pause, listening to the slightest change in his keening until he knew exactly where to tease Will.

            Hannibal slid his mouth back up to the tip and sucked, and then rested his teeth against Will’s skin. Will screamed from pleasure, and Hannibal hummed, biting a bit harder. With a cry that stung his throat Will came, pleasure rocketing through his nerves light lightening, pulsing up from his groin into his blood and to his brain.

            Hannibal sealed his lips and sucked, eagerly swallowing Will’s release, a look of absolute indulgence on his face. He savored Will even more than the meal they’d eaten together, and Will found himself unable to remove his eyes from Hannibal’s absolutely _pleased_ face.

            A wave of satisfaction washed over Will and he collapsed back to the bed, panting, exhausted. Hannibal sucked the last drops from him and slid up his body, still completely clothed, to press kisses against Will’s neck, cheek, and forehead.   He pulled him into his arms and Will curled into him, frustrated that he was still dressed.

            “Hannibal, I want to _feel_ you.” he said. Hannibal was up in an instant, and Will heard the sound of clothes falling haphazardly to the floor. In seconds he was back, his warm, now completely naked body pressing up behind Will, enveloping him, surrounding him.

            Will rested his head on Hannibal’s arm, his other one slinking around his stomach to pull them close. He sighed and melted into him, feeling his breath on his neck and his _very_ hard erection sliding up against his ass. Will shuddered at the thought.

            “I wish I could let you in me, again.” he said. Hannibal’s kisses along his cheek and neck continued, uninterrupted.

            “You will.” he said, his lips coming to his shoulder, kissing along his bicep, then traveling across his back.

            “But I want to give you pleasure.”

            “Hmmm.” Hannibal said. He reached his hand down and slid his dick between Will’s legs, into the heat under his balls and between his thighs. Will wiggled his ass back, pressing it closer into Hannibal’s pelvis, and he slowly started to rock. Will moaned as his erection brushed against his softened, overly sensitive dick. He collapsed his head back onto Hannibal’s arm and felt his muscular body pressing against him, flexing with incredible power and yet entirely gentle.

            “You are everything to me, Will.” Hannibal said softly, curling his hand back to brush through Will’s hair, as his other arm tightened around his stomach holding him close.

            “Show me.” Will whispered, and Hannibal growled softly into the skin of his neck, pounding himself harder now, pushing his cock between Will’s legs. Will squeezed his thighs tightly together, heat crawling up his veins as he thought about how good he made Hannibal feel. How incredible it was, that a man _so_ defined by exquisite taste that Alana had been able to use it to catch him halfway across the world, was enamored with _him_.

            Will reached his hand down to press against the underside of Hannibal’s dick, pushing it up against Will’s balls, increasing the friction. Hannibal panted, his breaths ragged and hot against Will’s neck, his teeth grazing against his skin. He growled softly, and Will felt the hairs prick to attention over his entire body.

            “Take what you want, Hannibal. I would deny you nothing.”

            With a snarl, Hannibal bit. Will cried out, pain shooting down the nerves in his neck, but he did not release the pressure he put on Hannibal’s cock. He shivered as he felt Hannibal suck his blood into his mouth, consuming from him, drinking of him. Hannibal’s thrusts became erratic and forceful, and he convulsed, his white, hot cum spurting all over Will’s hand and thighs and dick. He ground into him harder, sucking on Will’s neck, crushing his arm to pull Will close to him.

            Will waited until Hannibal relaxed, the tension leaving his body, though his lips remained. He slid his arm from Will’s waist and down to his wrist, lifting it, bringing his cum-covered fingers up to Will’s lips. Understanding, Will opened his mouth, tasting Hannibal on his tongue. He wasn’t sure if it was the afterglow of his own orgasm, or of his empathy for Hannibal’s, but he enjoyed it; not the flavor, because it was salty and unexpected, but the act itself. Of being able to, _permitted_ to partake of Hannibal, to eat a part of him, as no one else ever had. Surely he’d been sucked off before; but never by someone who _knew_ him. Who knew what it meant.

            Hannibal released his lips from Will’s neck, and his hand clasped Will’s chin. He forced his face up to his and brought their lips together, Hannibal’s cum and Will’s blood lingering on their tongues, mixing in their mouths. Will moaned softly into the kiss, and Hannibal shifted his body, trying to get closer, except there was already no space between them.

            He pulled back, his eyes dark and dreamy. He whispered something in a language Will did not understand, and then wrapped both his arms around him, pulling him tightly close.

            “How is it that every time we make love, it feels like our first time?” Will whispered, tracing his fingers slowly up and down Hannibal’s forearm.

            “There are so many ways for us to connect to each other, Will. So many paths that lead between us. You and I are already such complex creatures; and in becoming together we only complicate ourselves even further. I imagine no time will ever feel like a repeat of another, at least not for many years.”

            Will purred and settled back against Hannibal’s chest.

            “You sure know how to make a killer’s heart sing, Hannibal.”

            Hannibal only kissed him, more kisses on his cheek, his chin, his neck. They lay for a long time, until eventually Will shivered. Then they slipped under the blankets, not bothering to clean any of the cum or blood or sweat from their bodies, clinging to each other until sleep took them and morning came.

 

           

           

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% fluff, because the next chapter is 100% violence

            They left a trail of bodies across the Midwest, from Chicago through Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Utah.  Will drove at different speeds, meandered along back roads and little county highways, avoiding major interstates and going in a direct or straight line.  He wanted Jack to _think_ he could predict where they were going, but not well enough to actually catch them.

            When they crossed into Nevada the weather turned warm and Will wore a t-shirt.  Hannibal wore a tailored polo from the closet of the golfer they had murdered last night.  It was tight on him, and Will kind of liked it.

            “After Vegas we can head to New York and hire the yacht to Europe.” Will said.  “I know you’re tired of being on the run.”

            He took his eyes off the long, straight desert road to study Hannibal’s face for a few seconds.  There was no hiding it; his eyes _shone_.  He was _happy_.  A constant smile seemed to be on his lips, a reflection of the happiness Will felt himself.

            “I do miss civilization.” he admitted.  Will laughed.

            “How is this going to work, Hannibal?  You prefer high culture, I prefer a cabin in the woods.”

            Hannibal turned to him with an almost hurt expression.

            “The place I made for us has everything we both love.  Do trust me, Will.”

            Will reached out his right hand to tangle his fingers with Hannibal’s.

            “I’ve given you my entire life.” he said.  “Believe me, I trust you.”

           

            The sun had just dipped below the horizon when the city loomed before them, just starting to light up against the backdrop of the mountains. 

            “So what do you feel like tonight?” Hannibal asked, and Will couldn’t keep the chuckle from his eyes.  They were talking about people _exactly_ like livestock; deciding whether to have duck or venison, or plain chicken or beef.  Not only did it no longer bother him, not only did he _like_ it, but he was almost drunk on it.  Killing made him feel powerful; killing with _Hannibal_ made him feel in love and free.

            “I don’t know.  I thought we could stay for a few days.  Maybe actually get a hotel.” he said.  “There’s a lot here to see.”

            He saw the delight on Hannibal’s face at the suggestion. 

            “I will book us a room immediately.”

 

            He booked a penthouse suite for them at the Bellagio.  It was so decadent and enormous that Will felt he could spend a week without even leaving the hotel, and feel thoroughly entertained.  The first thing Hannibal did was have a tailor brought up from one of the tuxedo shops.  Luckily for him, he didn’t seem to recognize them; he wasn’t the sort of person who followed the news in any kind of way.  They were measured and Hannibal placed the order for a week’s worth of wardrobe for both of them.

            “A week’s worth?” Will asked, intrigued.  Hannibal gave the tiniest tilt of his head that Will had come to learn was his version of a shrug.

            “Better to be prepared than not.” he said, and Will only shook his head with affection.  They had nothing to unpack, and so the next order of business on Hannibal’s list was to get them tickets to the ballet.

            Once that was settled, he booked reservations at Maggiano’s for seven o’clock.

            “I hope you enjoy Italian.” Hannibal said.

            “Have we eaten any Italians?” Will replied, glancing in the mirror to attempt tying his own bowtie.  He _would_ get the hang of it, eventually.

            Hannibal chuckled and slithered up behind him, reaching his hands around to Will’s tie, stilling Will’s fidgeting fingers.  Will let his hands drop to his sides while Hannibal undid the mess he’d made and re-started the knot.

            “You are getting as clever as I with your puns about our dinner.” he said softly into Will’s ear.  Despite the month they’d spent together in the cabin, and now the wild week they’d experienced murdering and making love, Will still felt the heat rush to his ear where Hannibal’s lips brushed it.

            “I can see why you couldn’t resist it.” he said, a smirk coming to his lips.  Hannibal turned his face to press a kiss against Will’s cheek, his arms sliding down Will’s back to wrap around his stomach and pull him close.

            Hannibal rested his nose against Will’s neck, breathing in his scent.  Will still clearly remembered the first time Hannibal had smelled him, years ago in his office, with the excuse that he didn’t like his aftershave. 

            “How long have you been in love with me, Hannibal?”

            He felt his lover’s smile pressing against his neck, even as it was hidden from his sight in the mirror by Will’s skin.

            “How long have I been in love, or how long since I realized it?” he said softly.  Will turned, Hannibal’s arms not loosening from around his waist, and lifted his arms to drape behind his neck.

            “Both.”

            Hannibal tilted his head until their foreheads touched, not hiding the deep adoration he held for Will whatsoever from his face anymore.  Now that his mask has been removed for so long, Will wondered if he’d even be able to put it back.

            “I fell in love with you at the sight of you.” he said.  “At the very first words you ever spoke in my presence.”

            The corner of Will’s mouth upturned in a smile that he’d meant to be wry or flirtatious, but it only came out as happy.

            “And what were those words?”

            “ ‘Tasteless’, you said, in response to the way Freddie Lounds published a photo of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ latest victim.  You were not concerned with the violentness of the crime, nor the immorality, nor the cleverness of it.  You were concerned with _tastefulness_.  I knew what you were immediately.”

            “That’s just a thing people say, Hanni--”

            Hannibal’s hands flew to clasp the sides of Will’s face, his grip like iron, every muscle in his strong hands preventing Will from moving his head by a hair. 

            “Not.  You.” he said.  “Do you deny that I’m right?”

            Will stared into his eyes, still amazed after all these weeks at how _open_ and _vulnerable_ Hannibal was around him.  With no mask to protect him, his true emotions laid bare, Will could see the fire in his gaze with which he burned for Will.  _Needed_ Will. 

            “No.” he said, and he felt Hannibal’s grip relax, becoming tender once again.  “That’s not what I meant.  I was only trying to understand how…how you _knew_.” he said.  “How you knew, even before I knew myself, what I was.”

            Hannibal’s eyes traced over Will’s face then, his right hand moving back to stroke through his perfectly styled hair, letting loose a few curls, which made Hannibal smile.

            “My mind did not know, then.” he said.  “Because you are right; it is only a phrase people say, and you thought you meant it as such, and I took it as such.  But my heart knew.  Immediately.” he said.  “Had my mind understood as quickly as my heart, we could have avoided quite a few…unpleasantries.”

            “You mean the Encephalitis thing.”

            Hannibal’s eyes moved up to follow his own fingers as he continued to stroke them affectionately through Will’s hair.

            “I was referring to you being admitted, but yes, there is also that.”

            Will could see his distress, and in response, almost without thinking about it, he lifted his own hand to stroke his thumb across Hannibal’s cheek in comfort.

            “The unpleasantries that passed between us were equally my own doing.” he said.  “I didn’t accept myself and I fought against you for telling me the truth.” he said.  “Don’t you start feeling guilty _now_.”

            He felt Hannibal’s thumb tracing over the scar on his forehead, and saw the pain in his eyes.

            “I have regrets, Will.”

            Will remained silent for a long moment, closing his eyes as he felt Hannibal trace his thumb over the scar on his forehead, then his finger lightly over his stomach where his other scar was.

            “I regret taking Abigail from you, most of all.”

            Will swallowed, a bitter flavor on his tongue for a moment.  He winced, even, remembering what was probably the most painful moment of his life.  Of their lives.

            He then took Hannibal’s hand in both of his, and lifted it to a third scar- the scar on his cheek.  He stroked Hannibal’s fingers over it and opened his eyes to stare into Hannibal’s gaze.

            “Every action we took,” Will said softly, “has led us to here.  To being together.  Alive, free, and together.” he said.  “It’s all we can ask for, and I’m not going to waste one more _second_ of my life, of my time with you, on regret.”           

            Will leaned up for a kiss and Hannibal met his lips, slow and gentle, his fingers completely ruining Will’s hair and he didn’t care at all.

            “Now tell me the good part.” Will said, pulling away to lean his cheek on Hannibal’s shoulder.  “Tell me when you realized you were in love with me.”

            Hannibal’s smile was wistful and deep.

            “When you were incarcerated.” he said, slowly realizing that somehow, he had never told this to Will before, “I kept your appointments.  Stared, at the empty chair where you belonged.  Missed you.  Longed for you.”

            Will pulled Hannibal closer to him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the pulse of his neck against his cheek.

            “That is also when my becoming began.” Will whispered into his ear.  “When I first started to let myself form.  Let the part of me that enjoyed killing become free.”

            Hannibal pulled back a bit to look into Will’s eyes.  He brought his thumb up to his lips and traced it over them, Will letting his tongue slide out just a bit, just enough to be a tease.

            “We should continue this intimacy later.” Hannibal said.  “I really don’t want to be late to the ballet.”

            Will laughed, and pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek, and they continued getting ready as if all of this was normal conversation.  And he supposed that for them, it was.

 

            The ballet had been an experience.  The crowd was the same type of people who had been at the opera, but the show itself was completely different.  There was music, but this time it was not the focus, but the background.  Hannibal whispered to him the names of the more complex moves, and Will found himself more able to appreciate the athletic ability of the dancers than he had the musical ability of the opera singers. 

            Still, the best part for him was sitting with Hannibal, their fingers entwined, Hannibal’s lips whispering softly against his ear, the glowing smile behind his eyes that Will could see as clearly as if he wasn’t wearing his public mask.

            The stroll back to their hotel was leisurely, though Las Vegas was more garish than beautiful, Will still felt as if they were walking down the most romantic street in the world.  He felt flutters in his stomach as if this were somehow his very first date.  It seemed the more time he spent with Hannibal, the younger and giddier he felt; rather than wearing off, the feeling only grew with time as he finally allowed himself to bask in it.

            “You are absolutely glowing.” Hannibal said to him as they walked back into their hotel room.  Will tilted his head up and brought their lips together, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s neck, suddenly understanding why people felt the need to shower their lovers in rose pedals, write poetry, create art in their name.

            Hannibal held nothing back from the kiss, spreading his palm wide against the small of Will’s back, drawing him close.  His tongue slithered out to caress Will’s lip and he heard himself sigh with adoration. 

            “Hannibal.” he whispered. 

            “Yes, Will.”

            His hands moved to unbutton Will’s tuxedo jacket, sliding it smoothly from his shoulders to drape it over the back of an armchair.  His fingers traveled up to undo his bowtie, their eyes meeting once again as Will started removing Hannibal’s clothes.  They were gentle, and patient, again _so different_ from any other time; the lack of speed was not representative of a lack in passion, however.

            Once they were fully undressed, Hannibal led Will to the bed, pulling him down beside him, their bodies pressing together warm and tender.  Hannibal’s hands were all over Will, absorbing him in a slow and sensual manner, feeling every inch of him as he slid his palms up his arms, over his biceps, across his shoulders.  He brushed his fingers across his clavicle, then down his chest, teasing over his nipples.

            Will’s fingers combed through Hannibal’s hair, his eyes never leaving his face, not even when Hannibal lowered his lips to Will’s neck to plant gentle, sweet kisses over the deep bruises and wounds that his mouth had caused on other nights.  Will smoothed his palms over Hannibal’s back, feeling this powerful muscles as he moved his body lower, trailing kisses down Will’s chest and over his stomach, making him suck in air as Hannibal’s breath tickled over his skin.

            Hannibal went to move further down and Will tightened his fingers in his hair, pulling up.

            “Oh no, not this time.” he said.  “I want this to _last_.”

            Hannibal tilted his face up to look at Will, an extremely mischievous expression in his eyes, before he stuck out his tongue and flattened it against the base of Will’s cock, slowly licking up his length, never tearing his eyes away.  Will’s fingers pulled tightly at Hannibal’s hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he moaned, Hannibal’s mouth enclosing over his swollen tip and taking him down into his throat.

            Will keened, moving his hips up to push into that lascivious mouth, despite what he’d just said.  Hannibal held nothing back, teasing Will with his tongue on one side and lips on the other, moving slowly, wetly, too slow, Will eventually realized, to bring him to orgasm.

            Will moaned into the room, his fingers lost in Hannibal’s hair, the rest of him lost inside Hannibal’s mouth.  He drew up and teased Will’s tip with his tongue, slowly dragging over it, rivers of his drool running down Will’s cock and over his balls into his ass crack, until Will was whimpering and shivering underneath him.

            He rose, a satisfied smirk on his lips, sliding his body up so that he hovered over Will, his hands pushing Will’s thighs apart.

            “Tell me if you are well enough.” he said, and Will’s eyes grew wide and he nodded impatiently.

            “Yes, oh, yes.”

            Hannibal didn’t even try to hide his delight.  The smile on his lips was wide and genuine as he rose up and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a bottle of body oil.

            Hannibal covered Will with his body once again.  He leaned down and caressed his lips with his tongue, licking into Will’s mouth, diving into him as he moaned.  He grazed his knuckles down Will’s inner thigh, below his balls, sliding his finger through the mess of drool he’d left, teasing over Will’s opening.  Will felt the oil pour over his balls and between his ass cheeks, warm and slick, followed by Hannibal’s fingers, sure and confident.

            Hannibal lay beside him, wrapping his other hand around his neck and into his hair, pulling him close.  He nuzzled his face into Will’s neck, planting soft kisses now and then, as he gently pressed his finger inside him.

            Will whimpered and squirmed, shifting to turn closer to Hannibal.  It was so strange; he felt like he’d never done this before.  That night, over a week ago now, had been so intense it was like a dream, they had been fully monsters, then, all beast and no men.  Now they were fully human, and Will found himself jittery and nervous, clenching his jaw as he tried not to clench his ass, feeling Hannibal’s finger slide slowly in and out of him, invading him, _inside_ him.

            Hannibal stroked his fingers through his hair, moving his face up to plant kisses on Will’s temple.  He whispered gentle words in Lithuanian, a thing he only did when he was feeling most tender and affectionate.  Will’s hands fidgeted as he was unsure what to do with them.  He moved one towards Hannibal’s dick, hard and warm against his hip, but Hannibal snorted so he pulled away.

            Then Hannibal’s finger rubbed against his prostate, and sensation tingled through Will’s body.  A quiet whimper escaped his lips and he slowly became butter, pleasure and heat seeping up through his nerves like the edge of water spreading across pavement, the way the Dragon’s blood had spread across the stone.  Will became utterly helpless in Hannibal’s arms, drowning in pleasure and affection, and it was the best situation he’d ever found himself in.

            Hannibal pulled his finger back and pushed a second one in with it this time.  Will felt himself stretch, but it was hardly uncomfortable.  His skin was so flushed and his body was so turned on that he found himself wanting only more.  He spread his legs further, blushing at how debauched the motion made him feel, all of his skin on fire from the smoldering heat of pleasure.

            When Hannibal pressed a third finger in him he squirmed a bit again, and then he started to spread them.  Will bit his lower lip and hissed, and Hannibal went even _slower_.  Will couldn’t even complain, he was enjoying an act that he’d never previously thought about much at all.  He didn’t know how he’d imagined this would happen, but it wasn’t like this.

            He opened his eyes to find Hannibal staring into his face, with an expression of absolute adoration.  His fingers continued to stroke through Will’s hair, their eyes locked together as Hannibal continued to invade him, and Will allowed him inside.

            Hannibal leaned forward and pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to Will’s lips.  When he pulled away he shifted his body, keeping his fingers inside Will, but moving the rest of himself down to settle between Will’s legs.  Will felt the head of Hannibal’s cock press against his ass, and he slowly slid his fingers out until his hand was free.  Gentleman to the last, he reached over and wiped it off on the corner of the sheets, so that when he grasped Will’s thigh his hand was clean.

            He pushed forward and Will hissed, now somehow wishing Hannibal had taken even longer to spread him open.  He didn’t remember it hurting like this; but then again, he hadn’t exactly been in a normal state of mind last time.  His body protested, complaining that things were happening in the wrong direction, it felt strange and he found his eyes searching for Hannibal’s face, only to discover it was right there, trained on him. 

            Hannibal pushed forward slowly, not relenting, and not removing his eyes from Will’s face.  Neither spoke a word, their soft pants the only sound in the room, along with a few small, pathetic sounding whimpers coming from Will’s lips.  Hannibal’s hands wrapped around both of his thighs as he pulled himself close to Will, until Will felt the heat of his balls press against his own.

            Hannibal came to him, then, shifting his body so he was over Will, his hands on the mattress beside his head.  He leaned down and kissed him, softly, gently, tasting his lips.  Will shook under him, raising his arms to wrap around Hannibal’s neck.

            Hannibal slowly pulled out a bit and then pushed back in, and Will whimpered.  But a little pain wasn’t something that had ever stopped either of them before, and Hannibal continued, not ceasing the little pecks he was leaving across Will’s lips, even as he winced. 

            Hannibal’s patience was as rock-solid as always, and Will could feel every drop of how much he loved him with the gentleness of how he moved.  Will slowly started to relax, getting used to the sensation as he literally opened up to let Hannibal in.

            Hannibal pushed himself up to look down at Will’s face then and increased his speed slowly, Will’s body starting to rock from the motion, Hannibal’s hair falling into his face. Will reached up and brushed the strands out of his eyes, and he watched Hannibal’s resolve starting to waver. 

            “How long have you wanted me like this?” Will teased, drawing out the “s” of this in that way he knew drove Hannibal crazy.

            “Too long.  Years, Will.”

            “Well.  Now you have me.” he said.  “So take.”

            Hannibal shifted again, moving one hand down to Will’s hip, and _thrust_.

            Will cried out, from surprise, pain, and pleasure, all at once.  When Hannibal did it again, the surprise was gone, and by the fourth or fifth time, the pain was fading, leaving him only with the pleasure.  His eyes wanted to close but he drove them to stay open, watching Hannibal’s abdominal muscles flex as he thrust forward, lifting up his hands to feel them in his back, taught and powerful.

            He pushed into Will over and over, Will’s body sliding up the bed from the force each time, until Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.  Heat spread through Will as he heard the thick breaths coming from Hannibal’s lips, his straight hair shaking with every thrust, his cock stretching Will open, pressing against his prostate until it started to burn with heat.

            “Oh, yes, yes, yes…” Will said, his voice soft but full of emotion.  Hannibal thrust into him harder, the bed complaining from the force, and Will wanted him closer.  He spread his legs further, drawing his knees up.  Hannibal took his cue and placed both of his palms on the underside of Will’s thighs, pushing his legs higher. 

            Will _keened_ , his voice uttering nothing but nonsense syllables, along with _Hannibal_ and _yes_.  Their eyes met, divided by Hannibal’s shaking hair, passion burning in both of them as Hannibal drove them together. 

            His fingers clenched tightly into the flesh of Will’s thighs, his nails digging into his skin, and he grunted. 

            “Come on, let go, let me _see you_.” Will whispered.

            Hannibal’s eyes flashed up to Will’s and they almost seemed red.  He growled, pounding into Will so forcefully his head slid up to the headboard and he pressed his palms against it to keep his body in place.  Their eyes locked and Hannibal _took_ , Will’s body singing with pleasure, his eyes drinking in the sight above him as his flesh absorbed everything Hannibal gave to him.

            Hannibal snarled, baring his teeth, and slammed hard into Will, his fingernails drawing blood.  His entire body tensed and he convulsed, shuddering, his thrusts becoming short and fast.  His eyes screwed shut and he his breath heaved, until he collapsed, his forehead resting on Will’s chest, his heavy panting breaths washing over his stomach.

            Will brought a hand down to comb through his hair, and Hannibal growled a soft warning.  Will didn’t stop, ignoring the warning of the beast as only he had permission to do.  Hannibal placed kisses on his stomach, and Will sighed with contentment.

            Hannibal lifted his head and slowly pulled out of Will, his cum leaking out to join the other liquids that made a disastrous mess of the bed.  He then drew himself up and wrapped one arm around Will’s back.  His other hand slinked down to brush against Will’s cock, and Will inhaled sharply.

            He saw the smirk come to Hannibal’s lips, and shortly forgot about it.  His eyes closed as Hannibal’s hot palm surrounded him, starting off slowly, still incredibly patient and gentle, even in his current wild state.  He pressed kiss after kiss to Will’s face as he increased his speed, all of the pleasure that had been in Will’s prostate spreading rapidly through his balls and cock instead.  He tensed, curling his body into Hannibal, his fingers tangling in the hairs on his chest and cried out Hannibal’s name.

            His cum spread over Hannibal’s hand and their stomachs, and then they collapsed together, neither one caring now about what fluids got where.  Hannibal pulled Will tightly into his arms and Will nestled himself into his chest, Hannibal’s chin resting on the top of his head.

            “Incredible.” Hannibal said, his accent thicker than usual.  “You are always incredible.”

            “Same…goes for you.” Will managed to pant, his lungs still trying to catch up enough oxygen to feed his racing heart. 

            “This is more than I ever dreamed.” Hannibal said. 

            “For you, or for us?”

            “Both.”

            They lay, Hannibal’s hand gently stroking over the skin of Will’s back, Will’s fingers gently tracing patterns on Hannibal’s chest, until Will felt himself slipping in and out of sleep.  Hannibal reached down and pulled the covers over them and shut the light, and they slept in each other’s arms the entire night, still entangled when the sun awoke them in the morning. 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more violent than any of the preceding ones. That's either a warning or a hook to get you interested depending who you are, I guess B)

            They had spent the day window-shopping, walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, stopping in a quaint but lovely café for lunch.  Hannibal continually asked Will about what he wanted for them when they reached Europe, and Will continually shrugged.  Once he found out that yes, Hannibal actually had purchased a house by a stream, and already had every kind of fly-fishing gear imaginable waiting for him, Will was already satisfied.

            “I’ve never been big on material possessions.” he said, sipping his coffee as Hannibal munched on a salad. 

            “I know who you are, Will.” Hannibal said.  “But you must understand who I am.  And right now I have an overwhelming need to supply you with all your heart desires, and then some.”

            Will shook his head with an affectionately annoyed smile on his face.

            “At the risk of sounding incredibly sappy, _you_ are all my heart desires.  Though you worked very hard to make me that way.”

            Hannibal grinned at him and Will snorted a laugh.  At least he didn’t deny it.

            After lunch, Hannibal rented a car and refused to tell Will where they were going.  So he sat back and enjoyed the sights, taking in the strangeness of the day life of Las Vegas.  Not too long into their drive, however, and they left the city behind them, the car winding up into the foothills of the mountains until they reached as sign that read Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. 

            Will turned to Hannibal and saw the brightest smile on his face.  The expression he was wearing made him almost look…innocent.

            “I figured since we spent the morning appreciating things more to my taste, we’ll spend the afternoon enjoying the rugged beauty of nature, according to yours.”

            Will leaned across the seat and planted a rough, appreciative kiss on Hannibal’s lips. 

            They didn’t go far or stay long, the heat was a bit overbearing, but the nature was all new to Will and so it was exciting for him.  He found himself wishing he had a camera, and laughed as he realized he felt more like he was on vacation with Hannibal, and not on the run from the FBI.  He admired the cactus and rock formations and short, dry shrubs, all unfamiliar to him, and the enormous expanse of sky, unblocked by tall trees or buildings, and unobstructed by any clouds.  Each time he turned to glance at Hannibal all he saw was joy on his face; his happiness at seeing Will happy.  If Will had told himself of five years ago that his would be his life now, he never would have believed it.  It still seemed impossible when he thought about it.

            It was evening when they got back into the city, and the night life was just starting to begin.  Hannibal asked Will what he wanted to do, and he mentioned he wanted to try gambling.

            “I can teach you to play Baccarat.” Hannibal told him, walking into the bedroom to begin selecting their evening attire.  Will plopped down on the couch and flicked on the TV, surfing mindlessly through the channels when a very familiar face caught his attention, and he flicked back.

            “…extremely dangerous, especially since Mr. Graham was once a member of the FBI and is aware of police procedures and operating tactics.” Jack said as he stood at the podium, ten microphones crowded around his mouth. 

            “Mr. Crawford, do you have a strategy for trying to catch these serial killers?” some reporter asked, practically shoving the microphone into Jack’s face.  Will was unaware that he leaned forward.

            “As of right now, we fear that all our usual strategies for catching these types of criminals are not adequate.  But I do have one hope.” he said, lifting his eyes to stare into the camera.  “Will Graham was once an officer of the law.  He devoted years of his life to saving others, to _stopping_ these types of crimes.  He made tremendous sacrifices to _protect_ people from men like Hannibal, and I believe that his conscience is still intact, underneath whatever else may be going on.  Whether Hannibal has coerced him, or brainwashed him, or is simply blackmailing him somehow, I implore you, Will Graham, to do something, anything, to aid us in the capture of Hannibal Lecter.  Turn yourself in, and we will protect you…”

            Will’s entire body froze with rage. He jammed the off button on the remote and then hurled it at the TV, just as Hannibal rushed into the room to find him _seething_.  His teeth were gritting against each other and his fingers were balled into fists, his eyes focused on nothing.

            “Will?”

            Will stared blankly at the TV, his eyes burning hot coals as he tried to place the source of his _utter contempt_ for Jack Crawford.

            “Will.”

            Hannibal marched across the room and took him by the shoulders, breaking his staring contest with the turned-off television.  Will’s eyes saw straight through Hannibal for a moment, but he kept repeating his name, until Will came back to him, his eyes re-focusing on the one he loved.

            “Will.” Hannibal repeated again.  “What is the matter?”

            Will’s eyes finally locked onto Hannibal’s, his irises burning with anger.

            “Jack.  Crawford.” he spat, hatred in every syllable.

            “Yes, he is the man who is hunting us.” Hannibal said, placing his hands on Will’s shoulders, ducking his head a bit when Will tried to lower his eyes away from Hannibal’s gaze.  “Stay with me, Will.” he said.  “What about Jack Crawford?”

            Will’s jaw set and he gestured towards the TV with the back of his hand, his eyes darting back to it.

            “He was giving a press release.  In it he was asking me… _imploring_ me, to turn myself in.  To ‘do the right thing’, to remember who I once was.  To help him capture you.”

            Hannibal remained silent, his face showing that Will had his full attention, but allowing Will to work through his own emotions without interference.

            “He…”  a corner of Will’s mouth twitched upward in a sardonic smile,  one of the dark, tortured smiles he used to give Hannibal all the time, back when he was still resisting his own nature.  “He’s still using me.” he said, with a sarcastic snort.  “He is _still_ trying to use me as his tool, to get me to solve _one more_ crime for him, stop _one more_ murderer.” he said.  “Fragile little teacup.” he spat.  “I’m Jack’s well-used knife, and he would wear me down until I’m a dull blade, useless to him, to myself, and to the world.  He would destroy me, to get what he wants, and never feel an _ounce_ of regret, because it’s all for the _greater good_.”

            The sarcasm in Will’s voice was as thick as syrup.

            Hannibal regarded him with a tilt of his head, opened his mouth, thought better of it, then shut it again.

            “He _used_ me, for _years_ , took my teaching job, took my _sanity,_ my _stability_ , made me _doubt myself_ , claims that _I_ made sacrifices when it was _he_ who _took_ …”

            His jaw trembled and his every muscle shook as he spat the words. Hannibal merely listened, his eyes studying Will’s face and body language, taking in every detail of his emotion.

            “He stole my life.  He stole my _dogs_ from me, Hannibal, he stole my _wife_ and my _son_ …”

            “I think, perhaps, Will, you may be blaming Jack for many actions that were mine…”

            “ _No_.” Will raged, the volume in his voice growing steadily louder.  “ _You_ were trying to _make_ me.  Trying to _create_ me, trying to _set me free_.  You had _purpose_ to what you did, Hannibal, and granted one could argue it was selfish, because you wanted me all to yourself, but you told me through _all_ of that that your concern was what was best for me, and it ultimately was.”

            Hannibal regarded him with a tilt of his head, but remained silent, listening.

            “Jack _Crawford_ , on the other hand, only had _one_ goal in mind at any point, and that was to solve crimes, catch criminals, and he didn’t _care_ what it cost me!”

            “To be fair, he _was_ upset the day I tried to slice your brain open…”

            Will screamed and grabbed the desk chair, tossing it across the room, the sound of it clattering against the far wall almost deafening. His breath came out in heavy pants, almost growls, and Hannibal stood absolutely still.

            “You were upset because I had betrayed you.  I understand _you_.” he said, his eyes flying to Hannibal’s face.  “And you have apologized to me, for that, and for _everything_ , multiple times.  And you _mean_ it.  _Jack_ , on the other hand, has _never_ apologized, because he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong!  He thinks it’s all fine, because it’s for the greater good!  And now he _dares_ to undermine who we are?  Who you are to me?  Lies to the world about our relationship?  _I HAVE BEEN VERY CLEAR!_ ”

            Hannibal remained perfectly still and silent, allowing Will to work through whatever it was he needed to.  Will’s eyes darted around the room wildly, unfocused, his mind working so quickly and in so many directions he looked like he was about to be torn apart.  Then his gaze settled on Hannibal’s face, his jaw set, his eyes flashing in anger.

            “I never wanted to help Jack.  He dragged me in to be his _tool_ , his _resource_ , his _thing to be used_.  He used me to what he calls ‘save lives’; all the while destroying mine and not caring what it did to me.  Alana warned him.  _You_ warned him!  Even as what he was doing was driving me towards you, you warned him.  He didn’t _care_.  He _still_ does not care!  That’s what it is!  He _still_ doesn’t give one single damn about me; even _now_ , all he wants is for me to help him solve _one_ more crime, catch _one_ more killer!  Well no more, Jack Crawford.  I am not your puppet.  I belong to someone else now, and I will do whatever it takes to make.  Him.  See.”

            Hannibal stared at the creature that breathed fire before him, and understood every emotion that was going through him.  Understood every motivation, and knew exactly where this was going.

            “I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Will, even to my death.  Just tell me what you need.”

            Will’s eyes burned like hot cinders as he scalded Hannibal with his glare.

            “I need to kill.  Jack.  Crawford.”

 

 

 

            The plan was simple.  Create a crime scene that was so stunning, so vivid, so _noticeable_ that Jack would have to come in person to investigate it.  Once he was in Vegas, out of his city, out of his home, along with most of his team, they would drive directly back to Baltimore and lie in wait for him at his house.  No one would be there if Jack wasn’t; no patrol detail, no guarding officer, no one at all.  It would be the one place no one would ever look, and they would be waiting for him when he came home.

            Will did not plan further than that.  He had no exit strategy.  He left that to Hannibal, and trusted him implicitly to get them out, regardless of what Will did, so long as he did it within that house. 

            Will walked down the streets of Vegas clutching his knife in his pocket, searching the crowds, the rambunctious clubbers and gamblers and drinkers, the high-end prostitutes and their customers, looking for the right victims, the right scene.  Nothing was speaking to him.

            “I’m just not feeling… _classy_.” he spat, after Hannibal inquired as to what he was waiting for.

            “Then may I ask how you are feeling?”

            Will thought.

            “Savage.”

            Hannibal nodded, and then walked over to the nearest car, smashed in the driver’s side window, and got in.

            “What are we doing?” Will asked, getting unquestionably into the passenger seat.

            “I believe we’re in the wrong part of town.” Hannibal said, expertly hot-wiring the car, and some small part of Will that was not consumed with revenge against Jack was impressed. 

            Hannibal drove them away from the lights, away from the loud music and bright billboards and crowds in sequined outfits, towards a darker part of town.  Here, the crowds on the streets thinned, though there were still plenty of people out.  The quality of the prostitutes fell, until there were old, used corner girls waiting under broken street lights, men hiding in the shadows of the alleys behind them, either their pimps or perhaps drug dealers, everyone waiting for customers to come by with cash for one reason or another.

            Will’s restlessness immediately quelled and he started to look.  This was better.  This was what he was looking for.

            “You always know what I need.” Will said, not taking his eyes from the sidewalk.

            “I do my best to know your mind.”

            Will snorted.

            “You once told me not to psychoanalyze you, because I wouldn’t like you when you were psychoanalyzed.” Hannibal said.  “You were quite wrong about that, my dear Will.”

            Even under the crushing weight of his rage and his sudden need to destroy, Will still felt affection for Hannibal rise up within him, like a current running underneath all of his other emotions.

            “Here.” he said, and Hannibal stopped the car.  Will looked out of the window of the car at the group of six or so college boys, all wearing jackets with the same Greek letters, most with a girl hanging off of their arms, all of them clearly paid for.  They stopped at a corner, loud and drunk, talking trash to the dealers as they threw money in their faces and walked away with a stash.

            “I agree wholeheartedly with your decision.” Hannibal said, following them at a distance, though they were too wasted to notice something as mundane as a car tailing them as they walked the ten or fifteen blocks back towards their frat house.

            They went inside, not bothering to even close the front door, forget about locking it.  Will pulled his knife from his pocket and opened it, then closed it again, repeatedly, feeling the weight of it in his hands, feeling the excitement and anticipation and _justice_ he would feel from murdering these ungrateful assholes.

            “Don’t harm the girls if you can help it.” he said.

            “As you wish, my dear Will.”

            The two serial killers emerged from their stolen car in one synchronized motion, both walking with confidence up to the house, not even pausing as they walked through the front door and found two of the boys on the couch, cutting up the cocaine on the coffee table, each with a girl lounging beside them.  They all looked up with surprise, confusion on their faces, and then one of them began to laugh.

            “I think you old men are a little lost.” one of them said.  “Oh shit, wait.  Are you Tyrone’s dads?”

            Will’s knife was out and against the loud one’s throat before he could inhale his next breath.  Hannibal was weaponless, so he took advantage of the shock Will’s action caused to freeze everyone else, and yanked the quiet one up by his shirt.

            “Hello.” he said, before he reached up and snapped the boy’s neck, exactly when Will’s knife sliced deep into the other one’s throat, spraying blood over everyone in the room.

            The girls both screamed and ran for the door, though they were hardened enough to have the mind to take their purses with them.  At the sound of their screaming other boys started to appear, and Will and Hannibal stood back-to-back, facing the two entrances of the living room—one to the kitchen, one to the staircase.

            “Oh my _God_ , Sean!” one of the boys said, racing into the room towards his friend.  He never got past Hannibal, who wrapped his arm tightly around his neck, pinning him to his body as he swung him around for Will.  His knife was out instantly, slashing through the boy’s gut, slicing him open _not_ in a surgical manner.  Hannibal looked into his eyes through the blood and let the boy’s body drop to the floor with a thud, and then all chaos broke loose.

            There was another boy in the kitchen and Hannibal stalked after him, while the rest of the people on the stairs tried to clamber back up them as Will walked silently towards them.  He raced up them two at a time, listening to the screams of terror and pounding of feet, a surge of adrenaline and anticipation racing through him.  He liked the hunt.  He missed this.

            He slammed open the door to the first room he came to and found a girl huddling on the bed, alone.

            “Get out.” he ordered, and left, and seconds later he heard her footsteps as she barreled down the stairs and out into the night. 

            He tried the next door and it was locked.  Letting rage feed his beast, he slammed his shoulder against it, letting his rage at Jack and excitement of fresh kills drive him forward.  The door was flimsy and came off of its frame easily, slamming open so hard the doorknob lodged in the opposite wall. 

            Will glanced up to see two frat boys rising to their feet, realizing that their only way out was to fight.  He gave a sardonic, twisted grin, and stood, daring them to come to him.

            They were smart, and both came at once, one with a heavy lamp in his hands.  However, they were merely aiming to harm and escape.  Will was aiming to kill.  He flashed his knife at the unarmed one’s face, cutting across his eyes, making him scream and clutch at them with his hands.  He then spun around in time to see Hannibal, now brandishing a kitchen knife, which he plunged into the spinal cord of the boy who held the lamp.  His eyes flew wide as he lost all control of his body, the lamp falling to the floor seconds before he did.  Will knelt down and smiled at him.

            “You’re lucky that it isn’t suffering I’m after.” he said, and he sliced the boy’s throat, closing his eyes to feel the spray of blood that covered his face, letting himself revel in the savagery of it.  He heard the other boy become silent, and the sound of his body dropping to the ground as Hannibal took his life.  Pleasure spread through his veins, glowing up from the pit of his stomach into his heart, and down to his groin.

            Will turned to Hannibal, both of them now drenched in blood, and gave him a seductive smile.

            “Have I told you how it turns me on when you murder?”

            Hannibal’s wild eyes focused on his and he gave him a devilish grin, and together they headed into the last room down the hall.

            There were four of them, and it presented a challenge in that they did not want any of them to escape.  Hannibal blocked the doorway while Will entered the room, flushing out their prey.  The skinniest of them darted for the door, quick on his feet, but Hannibal was quicker, slamming his head into the wall so that he crumbled unconscious to the ground.

              Will lunged at the boy to his left, which caused him to back into a corner, leaving himself with nowhere else to go.  Will plunged his knife forward, but the boy brought his arm up in defense, and Will only pierced his hand.  He still screamed, swinging back with his other hand, which connected on the side of Will’s face.

            His vision turned black for a brief moment, and then he heard the two attackers behind him.  He whirled around in time to slash out his knife into the belly of a rather large boy, probably on the football team.  His flesh was just as soft to Will’s blade as anyone else’s, however.  Will didn’t have time to turn and cut the last one, who managed to get ahold of his wrist, trying to wrestle the knife from him.

            While Will was occupied, the first one whose hand he’d stabbed slipped an arm around his throat, cutting off Will’s air supply.  Will managed to elbow the boy behind him and make him loosen his grip, but he lost his knife.  The boy who’d wrestled it from him looked triumphant for a brief moment before Hannibal’s blade sliced through his back, cutting open his kidneys.  His mouth fell open in shock, a scream escaping him briefly, until Will was able to grab his own knife back from him and slit his throat.

            He jammed it into the flesh behind him, piercing a lung, hearing the boy’s breaths gurgle as he stumbled backwards and fell against the closet door.

            Will turned to the last one, the one Hannibal had knocked unconscious, and knelt beside him on the floor.  He hovered his knife over his throat and then glanced up at Hannibal, drenched in blood, panting from exertion, with demon eyes and a wide, evil grin on his face.

            “Kill with me.” Will said, and Hannibal happily knelt with him.  Together they sliced him open, throat and stomach, the blood flowing in rivers over his clothes and into the carpet. 

            The house was now silent but for their breathing.  Hannibal dropped his knife and pulled Will to him, the blood making his grip on Will’s shirt slippery as their mouths crashed together, tongues hungrily lapping at the blood on each other’s faces, drawing it into each other’s mouths.  Hannibal’s hands tore at Will’s clothes, ripping his shirt off of him.  His fingers kept slipping from the blood on the zipper but he got it far enough down that Will could wriggle out of his slacks, his own fingers flying to undo Hannibal’s belt.

            In thirty seconds they were naked, bodies smeared with blood, exchanging heated pants between their lips as Hannibal pushed Will’s back against the wall.

            Then they heard a thud from downstairs.  Both of them froze to listen.  Footsteps.

            Hannibal darted down the hall, Will on his heels.  They flew down the stairs to find a drunk, dazed boy in a white t-shirt, his eyes staring in horror at the carnage around him, a door leading to a basement open behind him from where he’d emerged.

            Before he could even register that he should run, Hannibal and Will were upon him, two naked bloody beasts sinking their teeth into the flesh of his neck.  They tore at his clothes while he screamed, adrenaline surging through Will, pounding through his veins, making him feel _alive_.  He grazed his teeth against the boy’s bony shoulder and sank them in, taking bites from his flesh as he screamed.  Hannibal did the same to his other bicep,  the blood spraying into the room, running down their naked bodies until he passed out.  The flavor was salty and hot, Will’s mouth burning with iron and fire, his gaze locking onto Hannibal’s as he swallowed a mouthful of skin and flesh.

            The boy fell to the floor from between them, dead, and Hannibal was upon Will.  He spun him violently around so his back pressed against Hannibal’s chest.  Hannibal’s hands spread wide over Will’s chest, slicking through the blood, feeling his skin beneath it.  His breath rasped in Will’s ear, his tongue licking down his skin, lapping the blood into his mouth and slurping it up.  His fingers teased over Will’s nipples, his touch slippery in the blood, his hands all over Will, feeling every inch of his body, his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his hips. 

            He reached down one hand and wrapped it around Will’s blood-drenched cock, stroking his hand over it.  Will groaned and let his head fall back against Hannibal’s shoulder, tilting his head to bring their mouths together.  He felt Hannibal’s cock pressing hot against his ass and he wiggled back into it, his eyes half-closed with bloodlust and sex.  Hannibal licked around the shell of his ear, grazing his teeth over it, his hand continuing to stroke Will’s erection.  With his other hand he guided his cock to slide between Will’s ass cheeks, and Will’s knees wobbled. 

            Hannibal’s knees pushed against the back of Will’s and he buckled, falling to all fours.  Hannibal left him, and Will whimpered as his throbbing cock was suddenly deprived of the warm hand that had been pleasuring it.  Hannibal vanished into the kitchen, then returned with a knife, purposefully walking towards the bodies on the couch.  He sliced one of the boy’s pelvises open and quickly cut out his prostate, bringing it over to Will where he squeezed it over his own cock, the young boy’s unreleased fluids slicking his cock.  Will’s ears _burned_ as he realized that was what Hannibal had done the first time, and his elbows threatened to give out on him as well.

            Hannibal’s hand came to Will’s hip as his other one guided his cock inside.  He pressed in without preamble, but this time, Will was still somewhat stretched from last night.  He cried out from the pleasure and then hissed from the pain, his body trembling as Hannibal pressed into him, his muscular hands clasping around the drying blood on Will’s hips.  His skin crackled as he felt the blood starting to dry. 

            Hannibal thrust.  Will keened, pushing his own hips back, cries escaping his lips from every push forward.  Their bodies rocked in tandem, Hannibal’s hands grasping Will’s hips like vices, bruising, relentless.  Will’s ass stretched to let Hannibal in, pleasure singing up his veins, his elbows finally giving out on him.  He collapsed, his forehead pressing into the carpet, which only gave Hannibal a better angle.

            He slammed into Will roughly, savagely, and Will’s body sang.  Cries of pleasure tore from his throat, and he felt Hannibal’s body cover him, his warm chest pressing against Will’s back.  His lips came to rest on the back of Will’s neck, his hot breath washing over him, surrounding him as his cock took him.  Hannibal’s hand slide over the peeling blood on his stomach, down to clasp at Will’s dick.

            He jerked Will in time with his thrusts, and Will keened.  Sweat dripped into his eyes because his head was upside-down and he couldn’t even care at the sting.  His veins spread pleasure through him, his skin sang with fire, his core trembled with ecstasy.  Hannibal’s lips breathed hot air over his neck, not a molecule of air between their flesh as they fucked.  Hannibal pounded into Will so hard his face burned into the carpet, along with his knees, and all he could do was cry for more.

            With a snarl, Hannibal tensed and rose onto his knees.  His pounding turned to quick, shallow thrusts, and Will _felt him_ harden inside him.  He felt his hot cum dripping from his ass as Hannibal’s nails dug into the flesh of Will’s hips.  Grunts of pleasure escaped Hannibal’s lips and he collapsed, his chest once again pressed against Will’s back.

            He did not remove himself from Will, instead his fingers sliding back to Will’s cock again, stroking him tightly and quickly.  Will whimpered, pushing himself into the heat of Hannibal’s hand, all of the pleasure and intensity in his body collecting in that _one place_ , until it poured over the threshold and out of him, covering Hannibal’s hand and leaking onto the carpet.

            They collapsed, a mass of heaving, trembling flesh, covered in sweat and dried blood.  Hannibal continued to press kisses against Will’s shoulder blades, giving little nips across the back of his neck, until their breathing slowed and they stilled.

            Hannibal slid out of him and Will winced.  Hannibal purred into his ear.

            “Did I harm you this time?” he asked softly, mild concern in his voice; he wanted the answer to be no, but wouldn’t be overly upset if it was yes.

            “Not as badly.” Will said.  “But I still enjoyed every moment.”

            He felt Hannibal press a smile into his neck.  He sighed with contentment, and they allowed themselves to lay in the afterglow of bliss for another moment, before they both rose, knowing that this time, the cops would be on their way before sunrise.  Eventually one of the girls they’d let go would call someone.

            “We should find clothes and leave.” Hannibal said.  Will nodded absently, his gaze traveling the room, taking in the carnage.  He felt absolutely pleased with the results.  Not a single surface was left without blood.

            Hannibal headed towards the stairs.

            “Wait.” Will said, and he paused.  Will walked over to the couch, to the boy whose pelvis had been sliced open, and buried his hand inside him.  He pulled it out, dripping with blood, and raised his fingers to the wall.  Tracing his dripping fingers downward he wrote a large J, then dove his hand in the boy again for more blood.  He followed it with an A, C, K and took a step back to admire it.

            He felt Hannibal’s cum leak from his ass cheeks then, and a wide grin spread over his face.  He reached behind himself and got as much of it onto his bloody hand as he could, then reached around to his own dick to slick off his own cum.  With his hand now dripping with their pleasure from sex and murder, he slammed his wide-open palm against the wall as a period to the one-word sentence he’d written.

            “You _will_ understand, Jack.” he said, taking a step back to admire his handiwork.  He felt Hannibal’s hands on his shoulders.

            “A beautiful, crass, savage work of art.” he said, pressing kisses to his shoulder.  “I admire the monster that lives within you, Will.”

            Will turned and kissed him, long and deep, until they heard the faint sound of sirens approaching.  They slipped out the back door into the night, to find somewhere to wash up and some clothes to steal, before they began their journey back towards Boston to seek their intended prey.

 


	9. Chapter 9

            Jack stared, unblinking, at a sea of red.  It was on every surface.  It was on the ceiling.  In the refrigerator.  Soaked into the carpet so that it squished when they walked, still wet, after 24 hours.  And yet it all barely had his attention, his eyes fixated on the mangled corpse of a college student, dumped unceremoniously on the floor, in a heap, after he’d been… _eaten_. 

            His shirt was torn to shreds, found tossed halfway across the room, also drenched in blood.  And from his upper torso were _chunks_ of flesh, torn—no, _bitten_ off.  Chewed.  And not found elsewhere.  Because they had been swallowed.

            Two chunks on his neck, chunks from his left arm, chunks from his right shoulder.

            “It’s going to take weeks to sort all this evidence out, Jack.” Zeller supplied, swabbing each of the wounds on the eaten boy. 

            “Just tell me if there are two distinct sets of teeth marks.” he said.  He already feared the answer, but he had to know.

            “…yes.” Zeller told him.  “I can already see Will’s…”

            “Stop.  That’s enough.” he said.  He tore his eyes away, his expression completely glassed over, and turned his attention to Price, who was for some reason, very interested in the wall over the couch.

            “What is so…”

            And then he saw it for the first time, somehow not having noticed it before now.

            His name.  Followed by a palm print, absolutely perfectly formed, as identifying as if he’d signed his name.

            _I did this.  No one coerced me.  This was me._

            “There’s more than blood in this palm print…” Price started to say, but Jack tuned him out.  He numbly turned and left the crime scene.  Went outside for fresh air, was assaulted by reporters, then turned and walked to the back yard.  It was the only place that wasn’t completely covered in blood.  There was a trail of footprints that led across the yard—of _bare_ footprints, as evidenced in the blood throughout the house as well, from where they had _shed their clothes_ in the upper bedroom.

            Like beasts.  Monsters, indeed.

            “Any luck following the trail?” Jack asked a tech whom he couldn’t even remember the name of.

            “It led to a swimming pool, where they apparently washed off.” she said, her hands shaking.  He doubted she’d ever seen anything like this before.  “The trail died there, and the dogs couldn’t pick it up again, either.”

            “Will knows how to evade dogs.” Jack said absently.  He stared at the two sets of muddy footprints that led across the pavement and vanished into the neighbor’s swimming pool. 

            “What are you doing, Will?” he asked no one in particular.  “Where are you going?  Where is this headed?  What _happened_ to you?” he shouted, louder than he’d intended.  A few techs looked up at his outburst but then quickly went back to work, no one making any comments towards him.  Poor old Jack, finally losing his marbles, trying to catch the one that got away.  The one that had been under his nose for years and years.  And the one he’d created.  The monster he’d made.

            If only he’d listened to Will back when listening to him might have prevented all this.

            Poor old Jack.

 

 

 

            His house was dark, his neighborhood silent at this hour of the night.  Exhausted from a late flight, drained from having worked nearly 48 hours straight on a case that hadn’t let him rest in six weeks, Jack was far from alert when he dragged his suitcase in through the front door.  The fact that the house alarm hadn’t beeped didn’t even register with him.  He turned and locked the door and flicked on the living room light, to find Will Graham casually relaxing on his couch, glass of wine in hand.

            “Hello, Jack.”

            Jack’s blood turned cold.  The voice was _so_ familiar; at first his subconscious reacted as if this were a friend, followed seconds later by his logical mind, which knew very differently.

            “Hello, Will.” Jack said carefully, untying his scarf from around his neck and placing it on the hook by the door.  He slowly removed his coat, careful not to turn his back on Will, his eyes darting frantically around the room, trying to learn whether or not Hannibal was present.

            “He’s in the kitchen.” Will said.  Jack froze.  A slow, wide smile of delight crept up on Will’s face, and could only be described as _evil_.  Jack hardly recognized him.

            “Have a seat, Jack.” Will said, gesturing towards the couch.  Jack’s hand immediately flew to his hip and he drew his gun, training it on Will, reminding him of another time he’d shot at Will—and how wrong he’d been, then.

            Will only shook his head the way a tired parent does at an insolent child.

            “If you shoot me, he’ll only kill you.  And everyone you care about.  Miss Lass, Mr. Price, Mr. Zeller.”

            Jack slowly lowered his weapon and re-holstered it.

            “We can stop this, Will.  You and I, together, we can take him.  Finally arrest him, like you always wanted.  Clear your name, get your life back…”

            Will laughed.  Not the nervous, twitchy laugh Jack was used to, but a full, bellowing, hearty laugh, one deep from his gut that radiated throughout his entire body.  If Jack didn’t know better, he’d say Will looked… _happy_.

            “For the first time, I _have_ a life, Jack.” he said, rising and taking a few steps towards him.  Jack had to fight his own instincts not to step away.  Will stopped at a proper distance for a friendly conversation, taking a sip of his wine as if they were making small talk while waiting for dinner to be prepared.  At the thought, Jack realized a delicious smell was wafting to them from the kitchen.  He swallowed a hard lump in his throat.  He wondered who dinner was.

            “You don’t have a life, Will.  You’re living on the lam, running from the law, _murdering_ people for entertainment!”

            Will gave him a bright smile and put his palm on his shoulder.

            “You keep forgetting the most important part, Jack.” he leaned in, his fingers squeezing Jack’s shoulder painfully tightly, his lips inches from his ear as he whispered.

            “Which is why I felt we should pay you a visit.”

            Will backed away, removing his hand from Jack’s shoulder.  Jack noticed then that Will had positioned himself between Jack and the front door, leaving him no way to leave other than through Will.

            “Will, if he’s threatened you, if he’s holding you against your will, tell me, and we can protect you from him.  Has he threatened to hurt Molly, Walter?  Is that why you’re going along with this?”

            Will’s eyes glassed over and his face hardened, his fingers clasping the wine glass so tightly Jack was afraid it might shatter.

            “Darling, our guest is being obstinate.  Would you please escort him to the table?” he shouted.  Before Jack had a chance to even turn around, something hard whacked him on the back of the skull, and he blacked out.

 

            When he came to, he was sitting at his own dining room table, his arms zip-tied to the arms of the chair, his ankles fastened to the legs.  He tried to move, and found that he could; the nightmare of the paralyzing drug Hannibal had put into him in Florence still fresh in his mind.

            Will was sitting across from him, hands folded in his lap, and the table was set for three.

            “My apologies, but you weren’t being cooperative.” Will said.  “If I didn’t need to have a conversation with you as badly as I do, you’d be dead right now, like the nurse.”

            Jack’s eyes were hard and he glared at Will.

            “Stop acting like this is some kind of _game_ , Will!  This isn’t you!  You’re letting Hannibal manipulate you; you’re giving him what he wants!  You’re not a killer, you’re a man who _stops_ killers!  You’re…”

            Will slammed the side of his closed fist down on the table, and Jack stopped speaking.

            “No, _you_ are a man who stops killers, and you _used me_ as one of your tools.  You never cared that that wasn’t what I wanted for myself.  You never cared what it was doing to me.  _You never cared about me, Jack_.  You watched me fall apart before your eyes; I _told_ you what Hannibal was and you ignored me!  You _knew_ the consequences of sending me back to him, and yet you _did it anyway_ , you wanted to catch Dolarhyde at _any_ cost.  Well congratulations.  You caught him.  He’s dead.  And this is the cost.”

            Will leaned back in his seat with finality.  It was then that Jack noticed the bruises peeking up from the collar of his shirt; a ring of them, dark and hideous, some old and yellowing, some new and dark purple.

            “Oh, do you like my love bites?” Will said, undoing the top button of his shirt, pulling it open so Jack could see.  “He leaves them for me every night.”

            The tone in Will’s voice was almost unrecognizable to the situation Jack found himself in.  He sounded like…a teenager in love, dreamy and smitten.  It went against the violence of the bruises and _bites_ on Will’s neck.  They reminded Jack of other bites he’d recently seen.

            “You ate a college boy alive.” Jack said, not hiding the horror in his voice.  “You’ve become a monster.”

            Will grinned, and again, it wasn’t the shaky, nervous smile Jack was used to with him, but rather it was full of confidence and self-assurance.  In fact, his smile looked almost _fond_ as he thought of the memory.

            “He was delicious.”

            Jack couldn’t hide the shock and horror from his face.  It made Will smile.  He looked down and traced his fingers around the foot of the wine glass.  “I’ve become quite nicely, I think.” he said.

            Just then, the door to the kitchen swung open, and Hannibal walked in carrying a tray with three salad bowls on it.  He smiled at Will, a bright, wide, _honest_ smile, and then he turned to Jack and gave him that expression as well.

            “Hello, Jack.” he said.  “It’s good to see you again, my friend.  I hope you brought your appetite.”

            Jack tried not to retch.  Both of them chuckled at his reaction, and Hannibal placed the salad bowls on the table with as much finesse as always.  He then picked up a very sharp knife and moved towards Jack.  He tried to jerk away, his eyes darting instinctually towards Will to help him.  Hannibal chuckled.

            “Oh, don’t look to _him_ for help.” he said.  “It was Will’s idea that we should come here.  I personally have nothing against you, Jack.”

            He slid the knife under the zip-tie of Jack’s right hand, cutting it free.  He immediately tried to reach out and snatch the knife away from Hannibal, but he was faster, pulling back in a graceful motion. 

            “Now now, I’ll be back in a minute.  Don’t want dinner to burn.”

            He vanished back into the kitchen and Jack glared after him with unbridled hatred.

            “Oh, don’t look at him like that.” Will said.  “He’s just doing what’s in his nature.”

            “Is that what you call it?” Jack spat.  “And what is in _your_ nature, Will?  The horrific things I’ve seen, what the evidence has told me you’ve done…”

            “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Will asked, bringing the wine up to his lips for another sip.  “The art we create together.  Though I’ll admit, most of the work we’ve done has been mine.  But that’ll change.  Hannibal is just letting me…catch up.”

            Jack’s expression slowly changed from disbelief to utter horror as he realized that Will was being _honest_.  That the words he was speaking were the truth about how he really felt.

            “My God.” Jack said.  “He’s changed you to be just like him.”

            Will leaned forward, his eyes alight, a spark in them that Jack had never seen before.

            “No, Jack.  Not even close.  I was _always_ this way.  Hannibal merely set me free.”

            The two of them stared at each other in silence then, Jack’s mind racing, trying to make sense of the situation, of the words this present Will said with the memories he had of Will in the past.  He couldn’t make it add up; he couldn’t reconcile the Will Graham he’d known with the one who sat in front of him now.

            Hannibal walked back in and sat ceremoniously at the head of the table, between them. 

            “Such a heavy topic of conversation.” he said, picking up his fork and starting in on his salad.  At his cue, Will started eating as well. 

            “Have some, Jack.  I promise, it’s only vegetables.”

            Will’s eyes darted to Hannibal’s face with a smile, and the two of them _gazed_ at each other.  It was blatantly obvious they were in love, and had the situation not been so thoroughly horrific, Jack would have called it beautiful.

            “I’m not hungry.” Jack replied.

            “Such a shame.” Hannibal said, his eyes never leaving Will’s, even as he took another bite if his salad.  “I’ve prepared such a lovely meal for you.”

            “Better than our guest deserves, I’d imagine.” Will replied, still gazing into Hannibal’s face. 

            “I always cook my best for you, darling Will, no matter the circumstances.”

            Will leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hannibal’s, and Jack’s eyes were riveted to the scene, even as he wished he could tear his gaze away.  He couldn’t ignore the fact that it was _Will_ who initiated the kiss, _Will_ who leaned towards Hannibal, _Will_ who lifted his hand to stroke against Hannibal’s cheek.  Their kiss lasted much longer than was proper at a dinner table, and that too was telling; the fact that Hannibal tossed etiquette aside simply because Will wanted him to.

            They pulled apart slowly, eyes still trained on each other, when a timer went off in the kitchen.  Hannibal gave Will a soft smile, and it was the most _human_ expression Jack could ever recall seeing on him. 

            “Pardon me.” he said, rising to his feet and disappearing back into the kitchen.  Will went back to eating his salad, a pink glow in his cheeks.

            “Will, I’m sorry.” Jack said. 

            Will placed his fork down on the table and removed his hand back into his lap.  He finished chewing the bite that was in his mouth and swallowed, his eyes rising to look straight into Jack’s face.  He had no trouble at all with eye contact now, it seemed.

            “Go on.” he said, and Jack knew that this was what he wanted to hear.  Maybe, if he got this right, he would live.

            “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you when you first told me that Hannibal was the Ripper.  I’m sorry for believing _him_ , when he framed you and had you incarcerated.  I’m sorry for putting you through that.  For doubting you then.  For shooting you in the shoulder.  If I had only believed you then, we wouldn’t be here; none of this would have come to pass.  You’d be back and the FBI, teaching, I’d….”

            “No I wouldn’t.” Will interrupted.  “You would still be using me, Jack.  To get into their heads.  To catch them.  Still destroying me.”

            Jack nodded quickly, his mind trying to listen even as his current circumstances made it very difficult.

            “You’re right, you’re right.  I did, I used you.  I pushed you, when you weren’t willing to be pushed.  I went too far.  I broke you.  I’m sorry for that, too.  I wish I could have done it differently, I wish things had turned out differently…”

            “I don’t.” Will said, cutting him off.  Jack’s eyes met his and he forced himself to stop talking.  Forced himself to listen.  Maybe, if he could just say the right thing…

            “I am absolutely delighted with the circumstances of my life, now.” Will said.  “I always would have become a killer, Jack.  But the fact that I get to share it with Hannibal- alive and free- well, it’s more than I ever expected out of my life.”      

            Jack shook with frustration.

            “Will, _enough_!  Enough with the puppy-dog-in-love act!  He made you suffer with Encephalitis!  He framed you for murder!  He fed you Abigail’s ear!  He murdered Abigail _in front of your eyes_ , and _left you for dead in his kitchen_!  He tried to slice your _brain_ open!  _This_ is the man who you’re claiming to be in love with!?”

            Will only smiled and shook his head.

            “No, Jack.  This is the man who I _am_ in love with.  Deeply.  Passionately.  Irrevocably.”

            “Will, such lovely words coming from your mouth.” Hannibal said from the doorway.  He had an apron on, though not a speck was on it, and a potholder over one of his hands.

            Will rose and stood beside him, brushing his fingers along Hannibal’s cheek.

            “Jack thinks I don’t remember our history together.” he said.  “He thinks reminding me of things I’ve forgiven you for will drive a wedge between us.”

            “Will!” Jack screamed, his voice growing desperate, his chair hopping off the floor and slamming down again as he struggled.  “You cannot _forgive_ those kinds of sins!  He is a _violent, unrepentant monster!_   If you think his days of violence are over, you are sorely mistaken!”

            At that Will spun around in fury, slamming both of his palms down on the table just out of Jack’s reach, his eyes burning into Jack’s face.

            “Exactly what.” he snarled, “In my past behavior this month,” he spat, “has led you to believe that I would want to be with anything _but_ a violent, unrepentant monster?”

            Jack stared into Will’s eyes, and for the first time, saw it.  Saw the reason _why_ Will had never looked into eyes before.  Not because he couldn’t stand to see others…but because he had been _desperate_ for others not to see _him_.  He saw the reason Will had so _vehemently_ refused to be psycho-analyzed.  Because he _knew_ that he, himself, was a monster.  He’d _always_ known. 

            “Oh my God, you’re like him.”

            He saw the delight on Will’s face at his realization.

            “I am.”

            Will pulled back, triumphant.  At that he turned to the kitchen and shouted,

            “Hannibal, we’re ready.”

            As if he’d been _waiting_ for Will, as if _Will_ was the one in command of the situation, Hannibal appeared, on cue.  In his hands was a serving tray piled high with carved meat, surrounded by decadent vegetables and lettuce and other garnishes.  It smelled absolutely delicious, as all of Hannibal’s cooking always did; the spices wafting up to Jacks nose and making his  mouth water and his stomach growl, even as he knew what was on the table before him.

            Hannibal described the meal with the embellishment he always did, though Jack tuned him out this time, uninterested in human meat disguised as fine cuisine.  He happily served Will, then Jack, then himself, picking up a gravy boat and pouring sauce over the sliced meat. 

            He then sat with a flourish, picking up his knife and fork, and he and Will began to eat.

            Will closed his eyes as he _savored_ the meal, Hannibal’s gaze trained on him with reverence.

            “Delicious, as always, Hannibal.” he said.  Jack could no longer name the myriad of ugly emotions stampeding through him.  They were all hideous.

            “Thank you, darling.” Hannibal said, and the most awful part was that he _meant_ it. 

            “Who is it?” Will asked lightly, as if there was no weight to the question.

            “The uniformed policeman who was guarding Jack’s house out front.  He was quite in shape.  Made for a good cut of meat.”

            “ _Stop it_!” Jack screamed, and Hannibal snapped his head to glare at Jack, his blood turning to ice in his veins.

            “Shouting at the table is quite rude, Jack.  If you weren’t a friend, I assure you, I wouldn’t put up with your behavior.”

            “ _Friend_?” Jack spat.  “This isn’t civilized!  This is horror!  No matter how you dress it up, you are _eating_ a _person!_ ”

              Hannibal placed his utensils down calmly on the table and inhaled slowly, as if he were about to lecture a disobedient child.

            “There’s no use in yelling at _me_ , Jack.” Hannibal said.  “Despite what you may have come to believe, you and I are still very much friends.  You’ve never done anything to wrong me.  Believe me when I say it is not I who is your enemy at this table.  If things were left up to me, you would be left very much alive at the end of this evening.”

            Jack’s mouth froze half-opened as he registered what Hannibal was saying.  He turned, slowly, to face Will, who gazed at him with a cold, bitter expression.

            “You see, Jack, the man who you consider your enemy is in fact not; and the man you consider your friend is actually the one who you should fear.” Hannibal finished.  He then resumed eating, taking another bite of his meal as if this was all normal conversation.

            Jack’s mind replayed for him then all the horror he’d seen over the past month, all the evidence pointing to it being _Will’s_ doing; reminded him of what Will had said when they’d first sat down at the table—“ _most of the work we’ve done has been mine”._

            “Tell me, Jack.” Will said, his head cocking to the side in a gesture that resembled Hannibal, and yet wasn’t like him at all.  “What is my profile?”

            Jack had to work his jaw to loosen his tongue.  He didn’t want to play this game; but it was slowly starting to dawn on him that if he was to get out of this alive, it was _Will_ who he had to appease.

            “A rash and spontaneous killer; but not impatient.  You select your victims based on chance—whoever happens to cross you at the wrong time is who winds up dead.  The people you’ve… _murdered_ …” it was hard for him to admit that this was _Will_ he was talking about “…are described by those who knew them as rude or crass—but I think that’s Hannibal’s influence; I don’t think that matters to you.  It doesn’t appear that _anything_ matters to you; you feel like killing and then whomever you see is who is next.  There’s no reasoning to it.  You don’t do it to honor them, or change them—you do it because you _enjoy_ it.  There is…enjoyment, there is _playfulness_ in the work.  And quite contrary to Hannibal, you really, really enjoy a bloody, violent mess.  You enjoy leaving as much evidence as possible.  More than is necessary.  You’re declaring your…”

            He stopped, and Will’s eyes burned into him across the table.  Jack inhaled, realizing this was the part he was waiting for, this admission, the thing Will needed desperately to hear.  The moment he said it, Will might kill him- yet if he didn’t say it, Will would _certainly_ kill him.

            He went with the option that might leave him alive.  Jack straightened and said the next part with as much dignity as he could muster.

            “You’re declaring your newfound self as a vicious killer.” he said.  “You’re declaring your allegiance to Hannibal…” he saw Will’s every muscle tense, and knew he’d better say it _all_ , hold nothing back, or he wouldn’t live to the next hour.  “You’re declaring the depth of your love for him, and of his for you.  The hearts of the young married couple, the mixed semen left at every single murder scene.” Jack said, and he saw Will relax.  That was what he wanted to hear, more than anything.  Hope swelled within Jack that he might actually live through this.

            “And your anger with me, at the last scene, for not seeing it.” he said.  “Why my name was written on the wall.”

            The tension left Will’s body, and he took a relaxed sip of his wine.  Throughout all of this, Hannibal sat silently, continuing to take bites of his meal as if none of what was happening bothered him at all.

            “So why did you deny us, Jack?” Will said.  “Why play it on national television as if I was Hannibal’s hostage, and not his lover?”

            If Jack didn’t know better, he would have thought he caught a small uptick at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth when Will said those words.

            “I was…”

            He knew this was it.  His answer here would determine his fate.  He took a slow, long breath.

            “I was ashamed to admit that not one, but _two_ serial killers had been right under my nose and I’d failed to see it.” he said.  “If you were good…if you were still an FBI agent, then I was less of a failure.  It was my own weakness that I couldn’t face.”

            Will nodded slightly, contemplating this, swirling the wine in his glass.  He turned to Hannibal with a slight cock of his head, who put down his utensils to look at his lover.

            “What should we do with him now?”

            Hannibal shrugged.

            “This is _your_ revenge, Will.  Mine is with Alana.  You may do whatever you like.  Tell me, is your anger abated?”

            Will stared at the table for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth, thinking.

            “Yes, I think so.”

            “Then which would leave you most satisfied?  Killing Jack, or letting him live to know that he has admitted to what you wanted?”

            Will nodded his head again.

            “He can live.” Will said, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief, which caught in his throat when Will’s eyes flicked up to bore into his skull.  “As long as he finishes his dinner.”

 

            Jack swallowed eat bite bitterly, or at least as bitterly as he could with how delicious it tasted.  It wasn’t possible to pretend that this meal was anything but what it was, with one of his hands tied to the chair and all he knew about Will and Hannibal now.  But he did manage not to think about _who_ it was; Officer Ruiz, who had been parked outside of his house for two weeks, with whom he’d shared coffee and tired jokes and allowed into his home to use his restroom.

            The awkward silence hung thickly in the air, the conversation having died to nothing while both Hannibal _and Will_ watched Jack as he finished his meal.  He placed his fork delicately on the table after he’d taken the last bite, sat up straight, and stared into Will’s eyes.

            “Will you set me free now?” he hoped.  Will snorted.

            “Please.  We need time.  We’ll leave you there.  Eventually, someone will come looking.  You’ll be fine.” he said, rising to his feet.  Hannibal rose with him, and they started to clear the table.  He heard them in the kitchen, speaking softly to each other, their voices almost _cooing_ in tone as they washed the dishes. 

            “You seem to be feeling much better.” Hannibal said softly.

            “I am.”

            “Do we have any other unfinished business to attend to in the States?”

            “I don’t.  Though I know you have some.”

            “Mine can wait.  I’m in no hurry, now that I have you by my side.”

            Then the conversation fell away and Jack heard the sound of soft kisses.  His head was reeling and his heart revolted against the situation.  He glanced over at the landline, the phone a mere ten feet away on the table in the hall, and considered trying to slowly drag the chair towards it.  He moved two inches, and the scraping noise was horrifically loud.  The water turned off in the kitchen as they listened.  He winced, and stopped.  The water turned back on.

            He was helpless to do anything but wait, and half an hour later, with the dishes clean, the table wiped down, and everything back in its place, he began to hope that they might finally leave.

            They emerged from the kitchen, their hair disheveled, Will not even trying to hide that he was re-buttoning his shirt as he walked back into the dining room.  Jack caught a glimpse of the deep bite marks on his neck, then, and all the rest of his illusions about who Will was shattered.  Nobody could pretend that he and Hannibal were anything other than what they were.  Hideous monsters, alike, and enjoying each other’s company.

            Hannibal patted Jack twice on the cheek and gave him a smile.

            “Goodbye, Jack.  This is probably the last we’ll be seeing of each other for a long time.”

            Jack had the good sense not to say anything that was on his mind.  He also had the sense not to be _rude_.

            “Goodbye, Hannibal.” he said.

            Hannibal headed for the doorway, and Will followed him without so much as a glance. 

            “Thank you, for leaving me alive, Will.” he said.  Then, with one last ounce of absolutely false hope, he added “I always knew there was a shred of goodness still in you.”

            It was a mistake.

            Will spun on his heel and lunged at him, a bloody folding knife flicked open and at his throat in less than two seconds.  Hannibal was just as quick, his powerful arm around Will’s throat, holding him back as he _snarled_ in Jack’s face.  His eyes were burning embers of hatred, his fingers shaking with fury as he pressed the blade to Jack’s throat.

            Hannibal’s other hand grabbed Will’s wrist tightly, and his muscles trembled with the effort of holding Will back.  All illusions that this was a civilized encounter shattered, and Jack found himself looking into the eyes of two beasts; one intent on killing him, the other trying to hold the first back, barely succeeding.

            Will snarled again, then growled, his hand shaking as he pressed the blade into Jack’s throat, drawing blood.  Jack stared right back, not blinking, holding Will’s gaze.  He would not back down; he would not die a coward.

            “Will.” Hannibal whispered in his ear, his voice soft and tender.  “Will, you already made your decision, my love.  Your mind decided to let him live.  You are the master of the beast; it does not control you.  As beautiful as you are, reign it in.”

            Hannibal’s face was buried in Will’s hair, his breath moving over his ear.  He placed gentle kisses along Will’s cheek, and he faltered.  Hannibal was able to pull his hand back a few inches, and then a few more.

            “Give me your knife, Will.”

            And Jack saw the beast subside.  He saw it curl back inside of Will, as Will curled into Hannibal.  Hannibal took the knife from him, folded it, and placed it back into Will’s pocket.  He wrapped his hands around him and stroked his fingers through his hair on the back of his head, as Will buried his face into Hannibal’s shoulder.

            “Shhhh, it’s okay.  He got the message.  He knows.  Trust me, you want him to live.  I would only ever do what is best for you.”

            Will nodded, wordlessly, and Hannibal kissed his temple.  He turned him and guided him towards the doorway, his eyes flashing in Jack’s direction.

            “For your sake, Jack, I would suggest keeping your mouth shut until we are gone.”

            They vanished from his sight, and a few seconds later, Jack heard his front door open, then close again softly.  He was left staring at the empty table before him, a few drops of blood running down his neck to stain his shirt, his eyes glassy and cold, his mind nothing more than a scrambled incoherent mess.

 

 

 

 


	10. Epilogue

           Epilogue

 

            Will closed his eyes and listened to the soft chirps of the afternoon birds as they flitted over the stream, resting the line over his finger as he felt for a tug.  The day was gorgeous; the sun sparkled over the water, the air just warm enough to make wading into the cool stream waist-deep pleasant and comfortable. 

            He heard a splash at the shore and turned to see their house-maid Chloe waving at him.  He waded towards her so he could hear what she was trying to shout over the babbling of the stream.

            “Monsieur Will, Monsieur Hannibal sent me to fetch you so you have enough time to get ready for the dinner party.” she said in her French accent.  After nearly a year, Will’s French was…well, he had some French to speak of, but he was grateful to Hannibal for hiring staff that mostly knew English.

            “Chloe, do me a favor and freeze those fish for tomorrow?” he said, gesturing at the bucket on the shore with his catch from the day.

            “Oui, Monsieur.” she said, lifting the bucket up by two hands as she trudged back up the hill towards their house.

            Their house.  The thought still sent a tingling sensation straight to Will’s lips, making the corners upturn without his even realizing it.  He walked into the tackle-house (he still couldn’t believe owned an entire building dedicated to fishing) and put away his gear, making it up to the main house just as the sun was starting to set. 

            When he stepped out of the shower, an expensive Italian suit was laid out for him on the bed, complete with Lucas to help him put it on.  Life with cleaning staff and servants had taken Will some time to get used to- and Hannibal, as well.  It made it so that they had to be very careful how they spoke, even in their own house, which was by Will’s design.

            Neither of them had changed their names.  The French government had already refused to extradite Hannibal to the United States, since he was not an American citizen, Lithuania also wanted him, and France wasn’t going to play favorites.  Then Hannibal and Will had gotten legally married under French law, and with a few pricey bribes sent to the right people in the right offices, the French government suddenly refused to extradite Will, either.

            Then Will had the brilliant idea of hiring staff—a slew of people who could always account for their whereabouts, who had full run of the house, who could give them solid alibies and testify to the fact that no, Monsieur Jack, there were _not_ human body parts anywhere on the property.

            He still called every time a tourist went missing in their province.  Hannibal happily chatted with him on the phone until Jack grew enraged and hung up.

            Will stepped out of their bedroom to find Hannibal waiting for him in the hall.  He gazed over Will’s body, taking in the sight of him, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled at what he saw.

            “Beautiful as ever.” he said, offering his elbow.  Will smiled back at him and took it, hearing the delighted giggles of the maids in the hall behind them.  Apparently, they were the happiest couple ever to be beheld, as was told to them quite often.

            The drive to the city wasn’t far.  Hannibal had chosen for them a house just far enough in the countryside that it was country, and not urban, but close enough to Paris so that they could make day trips there.  Their property was enormous and Will couldn’t even imagine what it must have cost, with their own private pond and stream which Hannibal paid to have stocked with fresh fish for him year-round, even in winter.  Then of course there were the other properties.  The ones not in their names.  The ones that did, indeed, have human body parts in them. 

            Those were in more out-of-the-way places, further into the country, another reason why they lived where they did.

            They arrived at the dinner party, being hosted by one of Hannibal’s friends, in response to one he had thrown a few months prior.  Several guests had already arrived, some of whom Will now knew, some whom were unfamiliar faces to him.  Though he still wouldn’t choose to attend social gatherings on his own, he no longer shied away from them.  He wasn’t good at making conversation (even if the people he was speaking to knew English), but with Hannibal by his side, he didn’t need to.  He could simply listen, or not, and let his attention drift through the crowd.  Most of the people were of the same sort, not interesting.  Not violent.  Peaceful.  A soft drone in the background.

            “Oh, you two look absolutely _stunning_ , as always.” Mrs. Peches said, her eyes showing off their wrinkles as she smiled brightly.  “Come, come, you simply _must_ meet some friends of mine.”

            Will allowed himself to be led across the tiled floor, near to where people were dancing a waltz, and she paused just outside the circle of dancers.  Her eyes followed a couple as they spun gracefully around the floor, until their dancing brought them near, and she reached out to tap a finger on one of the ladies’ shoulders.

            They stopped, breaths coming a bit quick from exertion, and Will saw them both freeze in the same second he felt himself tense.

            “Alana, Margo, this is the lovely gay couple I was telling you about!  This is Hannibal…”

            “Lecter.” Alana said, ice piercing into him even as she held a frozen smile on her face. 

            “Oh!  You _do_ know each other.”

            “Yes, we are familiar.” Alana said, her eyes darting to Will and then back to fixate on Hannibal, who stood with a gleam of _smugness_ in his eyes.  Alana turned towards Margo just a hair, never taking her gaze from Hannibal’s face.

            “Darling, you remember our friends, Hannibal Lecter and Will Gr—”

            “Will Lecter.” Will interrupted.  Of the four of them, he was the least practiced at hiding his true emotions- and the edge in his voice was clear to everyone but Mrs. Peches.

            “Will _Lecter_.” Alana said, her eyes narrowing with disdain.  “I see.”

            “Yes, we were married last year.” Hannibal said, in perfect conversational tone. 

            “Oh, and the wedding was just _lovely_.” Mrs. Peches said, clasping her hands together.  “It’s a shame you two weren’t there to see it.”

            “Yes, quite.” Hannibal said.  “I would have invited you, had I known where to send the invitation.”

            The silence stood thickly between the four of them, then, Alana’s eyes looking like they were going to sear a hole through Hannibal’s forehead.

            “Alana, would you allow me a dance?” Will asked, letting go of Hannibal’s arm to reach out towards hers.  Her gaze flicked from Hannibal to him with fire, and he saw the fear masked behind her anger there.  “I think it would be the best way for us to all catch up.” he said.  She nodded, and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor, even as he could feel the terror freezing in her joints as she moved.

            He picked up her left hand and started to lead, stumbling for a moment.

            “Not used to leading, Will?” she snapped bitterly.

            “Haven’t for quite awhile.” he said.  “It’ll come back to me.”

            “I’m sure.”

            “You’re not following well, either.”

            “I’ve never been much of a follower.”

            The dance then took them far across the floor, away from Hannibal and Margo, though Alana turned her head to watch over her at every opportunity.

            “He won’t hurt her.  He has nothing against her.” Will said.

            “You say that as if you can be certain.”

            “I can.”

            She finally looked into his eyes then, and he hoped she could see his absolute certainty.

            “I know him.” he said, and she rolled her eyes.  He sighed.

            “You’re going to have to trust me.”

            She snorted a laugh of disbelief.

            “Jack’s told me the things you’ve done, Will.”

            The accusatory tone in her voice burned him.  Though he regretted none of it; though he enjoyed his life greatly now, the judgement of Alana Bloom still held some meaning for him. 

            “I’m proud of every bit of it.” he said, and he felt her try to pull away in disgust.  “But I would never want to see you get hurt, Alana.  Even if everything is different now, you were once a very, very good friend to me.”

            “Is this the part where you tell me you can stop Hannibal from killing me?” she mocked.

            “Not at all.  If he gets the opportunity, he _will_ kill you.” he said, and he felt her tense at the truth of his words.  “But he also would _never_ leave a party early.” Will continued.  “Because that would be incredibly rude.”

            He saw the dawning come over her eyes, and she looked at him now with a slightly less hatred. 

            “And I _can_ assure you that if you leave _now_ , you will get away.  We can’t go back to the states.  You’d probably be safest there.”

            He saw her slight nod as she understood, and sucked in her bottom lip between her teeth.

            “Some shred of goodness remains in you for me, does it?” she asked, and her voice was less sure now.  It wavered a bit.

            He considered, for a moment, trying to explain to her that he had _always_ been a killer.  That the Will Graham everyone thought of when they remembered the old him was _still_ a killer; he just hadn’t yet accepted it.  That the Will Graham Alana had once had feelings for was a killer, and was unstable precisely because he wasn’t accepting that part of himself. 

            Then he realized that she would never understand that.  That no one, other than Hannibal, ever would.

            “I just don’t want to see you hurt.” he repeated.  “Only you.  No one else.  And I don’t want your son to be without his mother.  How is he?” he asked.  He saw a light briefly dart across her eyes despite the situation.   

            “He’s wonderful.” she said.  “He’s four, now.  Learning to write.  In French.  I suppose we’ll have to yank that rug out from under him.”

            “Nothing wrong with him knowing two languages.  Kids that age learn them so easily.” Will said.  He felt her sigh.  The dance was ending, and they were moving back towards Hannibal and Margo.  Alana looked into Will’s eyes one last time, squinting, trying to _see_ him.  He realized then that she never, ever would. 

            “Thank you.” she said softly, stepping up onto her toes to plant a kiss onto his cheek.  They parted, her fingers lingering just for a moment longer than they should against his, and then her hand was back in Margo’s, and his was back in Hannibal’s as the ladies faded into the crowd.

            “I suppose I’m going to miss this opportunity for a long-awaited reunion.” Hannibal said, though his voice was only wistful, lacking the harsh anger Will had expected from him.

            “You are.” he said.

            Hannibal turned to him, and amidst the entire high-society crowd of Paris, dragged his tongue over Will’s cheek to lick off the lipstick Alana had put there, making his own claim.  Will’s heart beat faster and he leaned into Hannibal’s obscene gesture, until his lips brushed against Will’s ear.

            “Then I think I will need to distract myself with your beauty tonight, after the party.” he growled softly.  “Perhaps we shall go hunting.  Have you brought your knife?”

            Will tilted his head so that his lips were close to Hannibal’s and whispered back to him, “Always.”

            Even though he gave no outward sign, person-suit fully intact, Will could _see_ the blood rush through Hannibal’s veins at his word.  Hannibal smiled, the uptick in the corner of his mouth _just_ a bit too high to be civilized.  He pulled Will’s hands into a dancing position and led him out onto the floor, Will easily allowing himself to fall back into the following role.  Their eyes never left one another’s, and the crowd around them whispered at what a delightful sight they were, so obviously in love, so graceful, so civilized.  Their masks fooled them all, their true natures hidden from the world until they decided to reveal themselves.  Will gazed into the eyes of Hannibal and _saw_.  And Hannibal saw right back, into the very back of his skull, into the depths of his being, where Will had finally, finally _become_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally up! The sequel to this story can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6081192/chapters/13938468
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy the sequel that I'm writing because of all of your lovely comments and encouragement! Please let me know what you think : )


End file.
